LILIAN 

AENOLD  BENNETT 


By  ARNOLD  BENNETT 


NOVELS 

LILIAN 

MR.    PKOHACK 

THE   EOLL-CALL 

THE    PRETTY    LADY 

THE   LION'S  SHARE 

THESE    TWAIN 

CLAYHANGER 

HILDA  LES8WATS 

THE  OLD  wives'  TALE 

DENRY  THE  AUDACIOUS 

THE  OLD  ADAM 

HELEN    WITH    TKE    HIGH    HAND 

THE   GATES  OP   WRATH 


THE     MATADOR     OF      THB     FIVE 

TOWNS 
THE   BOOK  OP  CAKLOTTA 
BURIED  ALIVE 
A   GREAT   MAN 
LEONORA 

WHOM    GOD    HATH    JOINED 
A  MAN   FROM   THE  NORTH 
ANNA  OF  THE   FIVE   TOWNS 
THE    GLIMPSE 
THE     CITY    OF    PLEASURE 
THE   GRAND    BABYLON  HOTEIi 
HUGO 


POCKET  PHILOSOPHIES 

SELF    AND   SELF-MANAGEMENT 
MARRIED    LIFE 
FRIENDSHIP   AND    HAPPINESS 
THE    HUMAN   MACHINE 


HOW    TO    LIVE    ON    24    H0nE8    A 
DAY 

LITERARY    TASTE 
MENTAL    EFFICIENCT 


THE    AUTHOR'S    CRAFT 


PLAYS 

THE   LOVE  MATCH 

BODY    AND    SOUL 

SACRED   AND    PROFANE   LOVB 

JUDITH 

THE    TITLE 


THE    GREAT    ADVENTURE 
ICUPID   AND   COMMONSENSE 
WHAT    THE    PUBLIC    WANTS 
POLITE    FARCES 
THB    HONEYMOON 


In  Collaboration  With  edward  knoblock 

MILESTONES 


MISCELLANEOUS 

OUR  WOMEN 

BOOKS    AND    PERSONS 

PARIS   NIGHTS 


THE    TRUTH    ABOUT    AN    AUTHOR 

LIBERTY  ! 

OVER    THERE:    WAR   SCENES 


NEW  YORK:  GEORGE  H.  DOR AN  COMPANY 


LILIAN 


BY 

ARNOLD  BENNETT 


NEW  XaJ^  YORK 
GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,  1922, 
BY  GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPAMT 


LILIAN.  I 


PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES  OP  AMERICA 


TO 

BERTIE  SULLIVAN 

AND 

AMARYLLIS 

WITH  AFFECTION  AND  GRATITUDE 


CONTENTS 

Part  One 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I     The  Girl  Alone 11 

II     Early  Years 19 

III  Advice  to  the  Young  Beauty     ...  28 

IV  The  Clubman 44 

V  The  Devotee 61 

VI     The  Telephone 70 

Part  Two 

I     The   Suicide 79 

II     The    Malady 85 

III  Shut 103 

IV  The  Vizier 114 

V  The  Martyr 125 

VI     The  Invitation 136 

VII     The  Avowal 144 

VlII     Philosophy  of  the  Grey-haired        .      .  156 

Part  Three 

I     In  the  Hotel 165 

II     The  Big  Yacht 175 

III      The  Casino 185 

*  vii 


viii  Contents 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

IV  Chemin  de  Fer 196  \ 

V     In  the  Hills 208                 | 

VI  The    Benefactress        ......  217 

VII     The  Doctor 227                 i 

VIII     Marriage 237                 I 

IX     The  Parting 244                 ; 

X     The  Wreath       . 249 

Part  Four  j 

I     The  Return 259 

II     Miss  Grig 270 

III  The  Lieutenant 278  ; 

IV  The  New  Employer 284 

V  Layette 290 


PAKT  ONE 


LILIAN 


Part  One 


THE  GIRL  ALONE 

LILIAN,  in  dark  blue  office  frock  with  an 
embroidered  red  line  round  the  neck  and 
detachable  black  wristlets  that  preserved  the 
ends  of  the  sleeves  from  dust  and  friction,  sat 
idle  at  her  flat  desk  in  what  was  called  "the 
small  room"  at  Felix  Grig's  establishment  in 
Clifford  Street,  off  Bond  Street.  There  were 
three  desks,  three  typewriting  machines  and 
three  green-shaded  lamps.  Only  Lilian's 
lamp  was  hghted,  and  she  sat  alone,  with  dark- 
ness above  her  chestnut  hair  and  about  her, 
and  a  circle  of  radiance  below.  She  was 
twenty-three.  Through  the  drawn  blind  of 
the  window  could  just  be  discerned  the  backs 

of  the  letters  of  words  painted  on  the  glass: 

11 


12  Lilia 


n 


"Felix  Grig.  Typewriting  Office.  Open  day 
and  night."  Seen  from  the  street  the  legend 
stood  out  black  and  clear  against  the  faintly 
glowing  bhnd.    It  M^as  IIP.  M. 

That  a  beautiful  young  girl,  created  for 
pleasure  and  affection  and  expensive  flattery, 
should  be  sitting  by  herself  at  11  P.  M.  in 
a  gloomy  office  in  Clifford  Street,  in  the  centre 
of  the  luxurious,  pleasure-mad,  love-mad  West 
End  of  London  seemed  shocking  and  contrary 
to  nature,  and  Lilian  certainly  so  regarded  it. 
She  pictured  the  shut  shops,  and  shops  and 
yet  again  shops,  filled  with  elegance  and  cost- 
liness— robes,  hats,  stockings,  shoes,  gloves, 
incredibly  fine  lingerie,  furs,  jewels,  perfumes 
— designed  and  confected  for  the  setting-oflF 
of  just  such  young  attractiveness  as  hers.  She 
pictured  herself  rifling  those  deserted  and 
silent  shops  by  some  magic  means  and  emerg- 
ing safe,  undetected,  in  batiste  so  rare  that 
her  skin  blushed  through  it,  in  a  frock  that  was 
priceless  and  yet  nothing  at  all,  and  in  warm 
marvellous  sables  that  no  blast  of  wind  or  mis- 
fortune could  ever  penetrate — and  diamonds 
in  her  hair.    She  pictured  thousands  of  smart 


The  Girl  Alone  13 


women,  with  imperious  command  over  rich, 
attendant  males,  who  at  that  very  moment 
were  moving  quickly  in  automobiles  from  the- 
atres towards  the  dancing-clubs  that  clustered 
round  Felix  Grig's  typewriting  office.  At  that 
very  moment  she  herself  ought  to  have  been 
dancing.  Not  in  a  smart  club;  no!  Only  in 
the  basement  of  a  house  where  an  acquaintance 
of  hers  lodged ;  and  only  with  clerks  and  things 
like  that;  and  only  to  a  gramophone.  But 
still  a  dance,  a  respite  from  the  immense  ennui 
and  soHtude  called  existence! 

She  had  been  kept  late  at  the  office  because 
of  Miss  Grig's  failure  to  arrive.  Miss  Grig, 
sister  of  Felix,  was  the  mainspring  of  the 
establishment,  which,  except  financially,  be- 
longed much  more  to  her  than  to  Felix.  Miss 
Grig  energized  it,  organized  it,  and  disciplined 
it,  in  addition  to  living  it.  Hers  had  been  the 
idea — not  quite  original,  but  none  the  less 
very  valuable  as  an  advertisement — of  remain- 
ing open  all  night.  Clever  men  would  tell 
simpletons  in  men's  clubs  about  the  typewrit- 
ing office  that  was  never  closed — example  of 
the  inexhaustible  wonderfulness  of  a  great 


14  Lilian 

capital! — and  would  sometimes  with  a  wink 
and  a  single  phrase  endow  the  office  with  a 
dubious  and  exciting  reputation.  Miss  Grig 
herself  was  the  chief  night-watcher.  She  ex- 
ulted in  vigils.  After  attendance  in  the  after- 
noon, if  her  health  was  reasonably  good,  she 
would  come  on  duty  again  at  8  p.  m.  and  go 
home  by  an  early  tube  train  on  the  following 
morning.  One  of  the  day  staff  would  remain 
until  8  p.  m.  in  order  to  hand  over  to  her; 
as  a  recompense  this  girl  would  be  let  off  at 
4  p.  m.  instead  of  6  p.  m.  the  next  day.  Justice 
reigned;  and  all  the  organization  for  deaHng 
with  rushes  of  work  was  inspired  by  Miss 
Grig's  own  admirable  ideas  of  justice. 

On  this  night  Lilian  had  been  appointed  to 
stay  till  8  o'clock.  Eight  o'clock — no  Miss 
Grig.  Eight-thirty  o'clock — no  Miss  Grig. 
Nine,  9.30,  10  o'clock— no  Miss  Grig.  And 
now  11  o'clock,  and  no  Miss  Grig.  It  was 
unprecedented,  and  dreadfully  disturbing. 
Lilian  even  foresaw  a  lonely,  horrible  night  in 
the  office,  with  nothing  but  tea,  bread-and- 
butter,  and  the  living  gas-stove  to  comfort 
her.     Agonizing   prospect!     She   had   spent 


The  Girl  Alone  15 

nights  in  the  office  before,  but  never  alone. 
She  felt  that  she  simply  could  not  support  the 
ordeal;  yet — such  was  the  moral,  invisible 
empire  of  absent  Miss  Grig — she  dared  not 
shut  up  the  office  and  depart.  The  office 
naturally  had  a  telephone,  but  most  absurdly 
there  vras  no  telephone  at  the  Grigs'  house — 
Felix's  fault — and  so  Lilian  could  only  specu- 
late upon  the  explanation  of  Miss  Grig's 
absence.     She  speculated  melodramatically. 

Then  her  lovely  little  ear,  quickened  by  ap- 
prehension, heard  footsteps  on  the  lower 
stairs.  Heavy  footsteps,  but  rapid  enough! 
She  flew  through  the  ante-room,  to  the  outer 
door  and  fearfully  opened  it,  and  gazed  down- 
wards to  the  electric  Hght  that,  somehow 
equivocally,  invited  wayfarers  to  pass  through 
the  ever-open  street-door  and  climb  the 
shadowy  steps  to  the  second  storey  and  behold 
there  strange  matters. 

A  villainous  old  fellow  was  hurrying  up  the 
echoing  stairs.  He  wore  a  pea-jacket  and  a 
red  cotton  muffler.  A  moment  ago  she  had 
had  no  thought  of  personal  danger.  Now,  in 
an  instant,  she  was  petrified  with  fright.    Her 


1 6  Lilian 

face  turned  from  rose  to  grey.  ...  Of 
course  it  was  a  hold-up !  Post-offices,  and  box- 
offices  of  theatres,  and  even  banks  had  been 
held  up  of  late.  Banks,  Felix  Grig  had  heard, 
were  taking  precautions.  Felix  had  suggested 
that  he  too  ought  to  take  precautions — re- 
volvers, alarm-bells,  etc. — but  Miss  Grig,  not 
approving,  had  smiled  her  wise,  condescending 
smile,  and  nothing  had  been  done.  Miss  Grig 
(thought  Lilian)  had  no  imagination — that 
was  what  was  wrong  with  her ! 

"Miss!"  growled  hoarsely  the  oncoming 
bandit,  "Give  us  a  match,  will  ye?" 

Yes,  they  always  began  thus  innocently,  did 
robbers.  Lilian  tried  to  speak  and  could  not. 
She  could  not  even  dash  within  and  bang  and 
bolt  the  door.  With  certain  crises  she  might 
possibly  be  able  to  deal,  but  not  with  this  sort 
of  crisis.  She  was  as  defenceless  as  a  blossom. 
She  thought  passionately  that  destiny  had  no 
right  to  put  her  in  such  a  terrible  extremity, 
and  that  the  whole  world  was  to  blame.  She 
felt  as  once  women  used  to  feel  in  the  sack  of 
cities,  faint  with  fear — and  streaks  of 
thrilled,   eager,   voluptuous  anticipation  run- 


The  Girl  Alone  17 

ning  through  the  fear!  She  reflected  that  the 
matches  were  on  the  mantlepiece  over  the  gas- 
stove. 

The  man  stood  on  the  landing.  He  had  an 
odour.  He  wa-s  tall ;  he  would  have  made  four 
of  Lillian.  She  knew  that  it  was  ridiculous  to 
retreat  into  the  office  and  find  the  matches  de- 
manded ;  she  knew  that  the  matches  were  only 
a  pretext;  she  knew  that  she  ought  to  hit  on 
some  brilliant  expedient  for  outwitting  the 
bandit  and  winning  eternal  glory  in  the  eve- 
ning papers;  but  she  retreated  into  the  office 
to  find  the  matches.  He  followed  heavily 
behind  her.  He  was  within  her  room!  .  .  . 
She  could  not  have  turned  to  face  him  for  ropes 
of  great  pearls. 

"Give  us  a  box,  miss.  It's  a  windy  night. 
Two  of  me  lamps  is  blown  out,  and  I  dropped 
me  matches  into  me  tea-can — ha,  ha! — and  I 
ain't  got  no  paper  to  carry  a  light  from  me 
fire,  and  I  ain't  seen  a  bobby  for  an  hour.  No, 
I  hain't,  though  you  wouldn't  believe  me." 

Lilian  was  suddenly  bhnded  by  the  truth. 
The  roadway  of  Clifford  Street  and  part  of 
Bond  Street  was  in  the  midst  of  a  process  of 


1 8  Lill 


lan 


deep  excavation;  it  was  acutely  "up,"  to  the 
detriment  of  traffic  and  trade;  and  this  fel- 
low was  the  night-watchman  who  sat  in  a 
sentry-box  by  a  burning  brazier.  She  recog- 
nised him.  .  .  . 

"Thank  ye  kindly,  miss,  and  may  God  bless 
yer!  I  knowed  ye  was  open  all  night.  Good 
night.  Hope  I  didn't  frighten  ye,  miss."  He 
laughed  grimly,  roguishly,  and  honestly. 

When  he  was  gone  Lilian  laughed  hysteri- 
cally. She  did  not  at  all  want  to  laugh,  but  she 
laughed.  Then  she  dropped  into  her  chair 
and  wept  with  painful  sobbing  violence.  And 
as,  regaining  calm,  she  realized  the  horrors 
which  might  have  happened  to  her,  the  resent- 
ment in  her  heart  against  destiny  and  against 
the  whole  world  grew  intense  and  filled  her 
heart  to  the  exclusion  of  every  other  feeling. 


II 

EARLY  YEARS 

MISS  SHARE,  as  she  was  addressed  in 
the  office,  was  the  only  child  of  an  art- 
master,  and  until  she  found  the  West  End  she 
had  lived  all  her  life  in  a  long  Putney  "road," 
of  which  no  house  could  truthfully  say  that  it 
was  in  any  way  better  than  or  different  from 
its  neighbours.  This  street  realized  the  ideal 
of  equality  before  God.  It  had  been  Lilian's 
prison,  from  which  she  was  let  out  for  regular 
daily  exercise,  and  she  hated  it  as  ardently  as 
any  captive  ever  hated  a  prison.  Lionel  Share 
had  had  charge  over  the  art  side  of  an  enor- 
mous Polytechnic  in  another  suburb.  In  youth 
he  had  won  a  National  Scholarship  at  South 
Kensington,  and  the  glory  of  the  Scholarship 
never  faded — not  even  when  he  was  elected 
President  of  the  Association  of  Art  Masters. 
He  was  destined  by  fate  to  be  a  teacher  of  art, 
and  appointed  by  heaven  to  be  a  headmaster 

19 


20  Lilian 

and  to  reach  the  highest  height  of  artistic 
pedagogy.  He  understood  organization;  the 
handUng  of  committees,  of  imder-masters  and 
of  pupils ;  the  filling-up  of  forms ;  the  engaging 
of  models;  and  he  understood  profoundly  the 
craft  of  pushing  pupils  successfully  through 
examinations.  His  name  was  a  sweet  odour  in 
the  nostrils  of  the  London  County  Council. 
He  rehabilitated  art  and  artists  in  Putney, 
which  admitted  that  it  had  had  quite  a  wrong 
notion  of  art  and  artists,  having  hitherto  re- 
garded art  as  unmanly,  and  artists  as  queer, 
loose,  bankruptcy-bound  fellows;  whereas  Mr. 
Share  paid  his  rent  promptly,  went  to  Margate 
for  his  long  holiday,  wore  a  frock-coat,  at- 
tended church,  and  had  been  mentioned  as  a 
suitable  candidate  for  the  Putney  Borough 
Council.  Until  Mr.  Share,  Putney  had  never 
been  able  to  explain  to  itself  the  respectability 
of  the  National  Gallery,  which  after  all  was 
full  of  art  done  by  artists.  The  phenomenon 
of  Mr.  Share  solved  the  enigma, — the  Old 
Masters  must  have  been  like  Lionel  Share. 

At  home  Mr.  Share  was  a  fat  man  with  a 
black  beard  and  moustache,  who  adored  his 


Early  Years  2i 

daughter  and  loved  his  wife.  A  strict  monog- 
amist, whose  life  would  bear  the  fullest  in- 
vestigation, he  was  nevertheless  what  is 
euphemistically  called  "uxorious."  He  re- 
turned home  of  a  night — often  late,  on  ac- 
count of  evening-classes — with  ravishment. 
He  knew  that  his  wife  and  daughter  would  be 
ready  to  receive  him,  and  they  were.  He 
kissed  and  fondled  them.  He  praised  them  to 
their  faces,  asserting  that  their  like  could  not 
be  discovered  among  womankind,  and  he  re- 
peated again  and  again  that  his  little  Lilian 
was  very  beautiful.  He  ate  and  drank  a  good 
supper.  If  he  loved  his  wife  he  loved  also  eat- 
ing and  drinking.  Now  and  then  he  would  ar- 
rive with  half  a  bottle  of  champagne  sticking 
out  of  his  overcoat  pocket.  Not  that  he  came 
within  a  thousand  miles  of  "drinking"!  He 
did  not.  He  would  not  even  keep  champagne 
or  any  wine  (except  Australian  burgundy)  in 
the  house;  but  he  would  pop  in  at  the  wine- 
merchant's  when  the  fancy  took  him. 

He  seldom  worried  his  dears  with  his  pro- 
fessional troubles.  Only  if  organization  and 
committees  were  specially  exasperating  would 


22  Lil 


tan 


he  refer,  and  then  but  casually,  to  the  darker 
side  of  existence.  As  for  art,  he  never  men- 
tioned it,  save  to  deride  some  example  of 
"Continental"  or  "advanced"  or  "depraved"  or 
"perverse"  art  (comprehensively  described  as 
"futurist") ,  which  had  regrettably  got  into  the 
pages  of  The  Studio,  the  only  magazine  to 
which  he  subscribed.  Nor  did  he  ever  in  his 
•prime  paint  or  sketch  for  pleasure.  But  at  the 
beginning  of  every  year  he  would  set  to  work 
to  do  a  small  thing  or  two  for  the  Royal 
Academy,  which  small  thing  or  two  were  often 
accepted  by  the  Royal  Academy,  though  never, 
one  is  sorry  to  say,  sold.  The  Royal  Academy 
soiree  was  Lilian's  sole  outlet  into  the  great 
world.  She  could  not,  however,  be  as  enthu- 
siastic about  it  as  were  her  father  and  mother ; 
for  in  the  privacy  of  her  mind  she  held  the 
women  thereat  to  be  a  most  dowdy  and  frumpy 
lot. 

The  girl  loved  her  father  and  mother;  she 
also  pitied  her  mother  and  hated  her  father. 
She  pitied  her  mother  for  being  an  utterly 
acquiescent  slave  with  no  will  of  her  own,  and 
hated  her  father  because  he  had  not  her  am- 


Early  Years  23 


bition  to  rise  above  the  state  of  the  frumpy 
middle  middle-class — and  for  other  reasons. 
The  man  had  realized  his  own  ambitions,  and 
was  a  merry  soul  sunk  in  contentment.  The 
world  held  nothing  that  he  wanted  and  did 
not  possess.  He  looked  up  to  the  upper 
classes  without  envy  or  jealousy,  and  read 
about  them  with  ingenuous  joy.  He  had  no  in- 
stinct for  any  sort  of  elegance. 

Lilian  was  intensely  ambitious,  yearning 
after  elegance.  She  saw  illustrated  advertise- 
ments of  furniture  in  The  Studio  and  of  attire 
in  the  daily  papers  and  compared  them  with 
the  smug  ugliness  of  the  domestic  interior  and 
her  plain  frocks;  and  was  passionately  sad. 
She  read  about  the  emancipation  of  girls  and 
about  the  "new  girl,"  and  compared  this 
winged  creature  with  herself.  Writers  in 
newspapers  seemed  to  assume  that  all  girls 
were  new  girls,  and  Lilian  knew  the  awful 
falsity  of  the  assumption.  She  rarely  left 
Putney,  unless  it  was  to  go  by  motor-bus  to 
Kew  Gardens  on  a  Saturday  afternoon  with 
papa  and  mamma.  She  did  not  reach  the  West 
End  once  in  a  thousand  years,  and  when  she 


24  Lilian 

did  she  came  back  tragic.  She  would  have 
contrived  to  reach  the  West  End  oftener,  but, 
though  full  of  leisure,  she  had  no  money  for 
bus  fares.  Mr.  Share  never  gave  her  money 
except  for  a  specific  purpose ;  and  she  could  not 
complain,  for  her  mother,  an  ageing  woman, 
never  had  a  penny  that  she  must  not  account 
for — not  a  penny.    Never! 

Mr.  Share  could  not  conceive  what  either 
of  them  could  want  with  loose  money.  He  was 
not  averse,  he  admitted,  from  change  and 
progress.  With  great  breadth  of  mind  he  ad- 
mitted that  change  and  progress  were  inevi- 
table. But  his  attitude  towards  these  phe- 
nomena resembled  that  of  the  young  St. 
Augustine  towards  another  matter,  who  cried : 
"Give  me  chastity,  O  Lord,  but  not  yet!"  In 
Mr.  Share's  view  his  wife  and  daughter  had 
no  business  in  the  world;  and  indeed  his  finest 
pride  was  to  maintain  them  in  complete  igno- 
rance of  the  world.  Even  during  the  war  he 
dissuaded  Lilian  from  any  war-work,  holding 
that  she  could  most  meetly  help  the  Empire  to 
triumph  by  helping  to  solace  her  father  in  the 
terrific  troubles  of  keeping  a  large  art  school 


Early  Years  25 


alive  under  D.O.R.A.  and  the  Conscription 
Act. 

Later,  Mrs.  Share  was  struck  down  by- 
cancer  on  the  liver  and  died  after  six  months' 
illness,  which  cost  Mr.  Share  a  considerable 
amount  of  money — lavishly  squandered,  cheer- 
fully paid.  Mr.  Share  was  heartbroken;  he 
really  grew  quite  old  in  a  fortnight;  and  his 
mute  appeal  to  Lilian  for  moral  succour  and 
the  balm  of  filial  tenderness  was  irresistible. 
Lilian  had  lost  a  mother,  but  the  main  fact  in 
the  situation  was  that  Mr.  Share  had  lost  a 
peerless  wife.  Lilian  became  housekeeper  and 
the  two  settled  down  together.  Mr.  Share 
adored  his  daughter  more  than  ever,  and  more 
visibly.  Her  freedom,  always  excessively 
limited,  was  now  retrenched.  She  was  trans- 
fixed eternally  as  the  old  man's  prop.  Her 
twenty-first  birthday  passed — and  not  a  word 
as  to  her  future,  as  to  a  marriage  for  her,  or 
as  to  her  individuality,  desires,  hopes!  She 
was  papa's  cherished  darling. 

Then  Mr.  Share  caught  pneumonia,  through 
devotion  to  duty,  and  died  in  a  few  days ;  and 
at  last  Lilian  felt  on  her  lovely  cheek  the  winds 


26  Lilia 


n 


of  the  world;  at  last  she  was  free.  Of  high 
paternal  finance  she  had  never  in  her  life  heard 
one  word.  In  the  week  following  the  funeral 
she  learnt  that  she  would  be  mistress  of  the 
furniture  and  a  little  over  one  hundred  pounds 
net.  Mr.  Share  had  illustrated  the  ancient 
maxim  that  it  is  easier  to  make  money  than 
to  keep  it.  He  had  held  shipping  shares  too 
long  and  had  sold  a  fully-paid  endowment  in- 
surance policy  in  the  vain  endeavour  to  replace 
by  adventurous  investment  that  which  the  sea 
had  swallowed  up.  And  Lilian  was  helpless. 
She  could  do  absolutely  nothing  that  was  worth 
money.  She  could  not  begin  to  earn  a  liveli- 
hood. As  for  relatives,  there  was  only  her 
father's  brother,  a  Board  School  teacher  with 
a  large  vulgar  family  and  an  income  far  too 
small  to  permit  of  generosities.  Lilian  was 
first  incredulous,  then  horror-struck. 

Leaving  the  youth  of  the  world  to  pick  up 
art  as  best  it  could  without  him,  and  fleeing  to 
join  his  wife  in  paradise,  the  loving,  adoring 
father  had  in  effect  abandoned  a  beautiful 
idolized  daughter  to  the  alternatives  of  starva- 
tion  or  prostitution.    He   had   shackled  her 


Early  Years  27 


wrists  behind  her  back  and  hobbled  her  feet 
and  bequeathed  her  to  wolves.  That  was  what 
he  had  done,  and  what  many  and  many  such 
fathers  had  done,  and  still  do,  to  their  idohzed 
daughters. 

Herein  was  the  root  of  Lilian's  awful  burn- 
ing resentment  against  the  whole  world,  and 
of  a  fierce  and  terrible  determination  by  fair 
means  or  foul  to  make  the  world  pay.  Her 
soul  was  a  horrid  furnace,  and  if  by  chance 
Lionel  Share  leaned  out  from  the  gold  bar  of 
heaven  and  noticed  it,  the  sight  must  have 
turned  his  thoughts  towards  hell  for  a  pleasant 
change.  She  was  saved  from  disaster,  from 
martyrdom,  from  ignominy,  from  the  un- 
namable,  by  the  merest  fluke.  The  nurse  who 
tended  Lionel  Share's  last  hours  was  named 
Grig.  This  nurse  had  cousins  in  the  type- 
writing business.  She  had  also  a  very  kind 
heart,  a  practical  mind,  and  a  persuasive  man- 
ner with  cousins. 


Ill 

ADVICE  TO  THE  YOUNG  BEAUTY 

"/^  OME,  come  now,  now  poor  girl!  You 
^^-^  surely  aren't  crying  like  this  because 
you've  been  kept  away  from  your  dance  to- 
night." 

Lilian  gave  a  great  start,  and  an  "Oh.!" 
and,  searching  hurriedly  for  a  handkerchief 
inadequate  to  the  damning  of  torrents,  dried 
up  her  tears  at  the  source,  but  could  not  im- 
mediately control  the  sobs  that  continued  to 
convulse  her  whole  frame. 

"N-no!   Mr.  Grig,"  she  whimpered  feebly. 

Then  she  snatched  at  a  sheet  of  paper  and 
began  to  insert  it  in  the  machine  before  her, 
as  though  about  to  start  some  copying. 

"Miss  Grig  is  rather  unwell,"  said  Felix 
Grig.  "She  insisted  that  I  should  come  up, 
and  so  I  came."  With  that  he  tactfully  left 
the  room,  obeying  the  wise  rule  of  conduct 

28 


Advice  to  the  Young  Beauty    29 

under  which  a  man  conquers  a  woman's  weep- 
ing by  running  away  from  it. 

LiHan's  face  was  red;  it  went  still  redder. 
She  was  tremendously  ashamed  of  being 
caught  blubbering,  and  by  Mr.  Grig!  It  would 
not  have  mattered  if  one  of  the  girls  had  sur- 
prised her,  or  even  Miss  Grig.  But  Mr.  Grig! 
Nor  would  it  have  mattered  so  much  if  circum- 
stances had  made  possible  any  pretence,  how- 
ever absurd  and  false,  that  she  was  not  in 
fact  crying.  But  she  had  been  trapped  beyond 
any  chance  of  a  face-saving  lie.  She  felt  as 
though  she  had  committed  a  sexual  impro- 
priety and  could  never  look  Mr.  Grig  in  the 
eyes  again.  At  the  same  time  she  was  pro- 
foundly relieved  that  somebody  belonging  to 
the  office,  and  especially  a  man,  had  arrived 
to  break  her  awful  solitude.  .  .  . 

So  Mr.  Grig  knew  that  she  had  a  dance  that 
night !  There  was  something  piquant  and  dis- 
composing in  that.  Gertie  Jackson  must  have 
chattered  to  Miss  Grig — they  were  as  thick  as 
thieves,  those  two,  or  at  any  rate  the  good- 
natured  Gertie  flattered  herself  that  they  were 
— and  Miss  Grig  must  have  told  Felix.    (Very 


30  Lilian 

discreetly  the  girls  would  refer  among  them- 
selves to  Mr.  Grig  as  "Felix.")  Brother  and 
sister  must  have  been  talking  about  her  and 
her  miserable  little  dance.  Still,  a  dance  was 
a  dance,  and  the  mere  word  had  a  glorious 
sound.  Nobody  except  herself  knew  that  her 
dance  was  in  a  basement.  ...  So  he  had 
not  come  to  the  office  to  relieve  and  reassure 
her  in  her  unforeseen  night-watch,  but  merely 
to  placate  his  sister!  And  how  casually, 
lightly,  almost  quizzically,  he  had  spoken! 
She  was  naught  to  him — a  girl  typist,  one 
among  a  floating  population  of  girl  typists. 

Miss  Grig  had  no  distinction — her  ankles 
proved  that — but  Felix  was  distinguished,  in 
manner,  in  voice,  in  everything  he  did.  Felix 
was  a  swell,  like  the  easy  flaneurs  in  Bond 
Street  that  she  saw  when  she  happened  to  go 
out  of  the  office  during  work-hours.  It  was 
said  that  he  had  been  married  and  that  his  wife 
had  divorced  him.  Lilian  surmised  that  if  the 
truth  were  known  the  wife  more  than  Felix 
had  been  to  blame. 

All  these  thoughts  were  mere  foam  on  the 
great  darkly  heaving  thought  that  Felix  had 


Advice  to  the  Young  Beauty    31 

horribly  misjudged  her.  Not  his  fault,  of 
course;  but  he  had  misjudged  her.  Crying  for 
a  lost  dance  indeed!  She  terribly  wanted  him 
to  be  made  aware  that  she  was  only  crying 
because  she  had  experienced  an  ordeal  to 
which  she  ought  not  to  have  been  exposed  and 
to  which  no  girl  ought  to  have  been  exposed. 
Miss  Grig  again !  It  was  Miss  Grig,  not  Felix, 
that  had  sneered  at  hold-ups.  There  had  been 
no  hold-up,  but  there  might  have  been  a  hold- 
up, and  in  any  case  she  had  passed  through  the 
worst  sensations  of  a  hold-up.    Scandalous! 

Anxious  to  be  effective,  she  took  up  the 
typing  of  a  novel  which  had  been  sent  in  by 
one  of  their  principal  customers,  a  hterary 
agency,  and  tried  to  tap  as  prosaically  as  if  the 
hour  were  11.30  a.  m.  instead  of  11.30  p.  m. 
Bravado!  She  knew  that  she  would  have  to 
do  the  faulty  sheet  again;  but  she  must  im- 
press Felix.  Then  she  heard  Felix  calhng 
from  the  principals'  room: 

*'Miss  Share.  Miss  Sharer  A  little  im- 
patient as  usual. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Grig."  She  rushed  to  the  mirror 
and  patted  herself  with  the  tiny  sponge  that 


32  Lilian 

under  Miss  Grig's  orders  was  supposed  to  be 
employed  for  wetting  postage-stamps — but 
never  was  so  employed  save  in  Miss  Grig's 
presence. 

"I  shall  tell  him  why  I  was  crying,"  she  said 
to  herself  as  she  crossed  the  ante-room.  "And 
I  shall  tell  him  straight." 

He  was  seated  on  the  corner  of  the  table  in 
the  principals'  room,  and  rolling  a  cigarette. 
He  had  lighted  the  gas-stove.  A  very  slim 
man  of  medium  height  and  of  no  age, — he 
might  have  been  thirty-five  with  prematurely 
grizzled  hair,  or  fifty  with  hair  younger  than 
the  wrinkles  round  his  grey  eyes !  Miss  Grig 
had  said  or  implied  that  she  was  younger  than 
her  brother,  but  the  girls  did  not  accept  with- 
out reserve  all  that  Miss  Grig  might  say  or 
imply.  He  had  taken  off  his  overcoat  and 
now  displayed  a  dinner-jacket  and  an  ador- 
ably soft  shirt.  Lilian  had  never  before  seen 
him  in  evening-dress,  for  he  did  not  come  to 
the  office  at  night  and  nobody  expected  him 
to  come  to  the  office  at  night.  He  was  wonder- 
fully attractive  in  evening-dress,  which  he  car- 
ried with  the  nonchalance  of  regular  custom. 


Advice  to  the  Young  Beauty     33 


So  different  to  her  father,  who  put  on  cere- 
monial attire  about  three  times  a  year,  and 
wore  it  with  deplorable  self-consciousness,  as 
though  it  were  a  suit  of  armour!  Mr.  Grig 
was  indeed  a  queer  person  to  run  a  typewriting 
office.  Lilian  was  aware  that  he  had  been  to 
Winchester  and  Cambridge,  and  done  all  man- 
ner of  unusual  things  before  he  lit  on  type- 
writing. 

"Any  work  come  in  to-night.  Miss  Share?'* 
he  demanded  in  the  bland,  kindly,  careless, 
official  tone  which  he  always  employed  to  the 
girls, — a  tone  rendering  the  slightest  famil- 
iarity impossible.    "Anybody  called?" 

Lilian  knew  that  he  was  merely  affecting  an 
interest  in  the  business,  acting  the  role  of  man- 
aging proprietor.  He  had  tired  of  the  busi- 
ness long  ago,  and  graciously  left  all  the  real 
power  to  his  sister,  who  had  no  mind  above 
typewriting. 

"Someone  did  come  in  just  before  you,  Mr. 
Grig,"  Lilian  replied,  seizing  her  chance,  and 
in  a  half-challenging  tone  she  related  the  ad- 
venture with  the  night-watchman.  "It  was 
that  that  upset  me,  Mr.  Grig.    It  might  have 


34  Lilian 

been  a  burglar — I  made  sure  it  was.  And  me 
all  alone " 

"Quite!  Quite!"  he  stopped  her.  "I  can 
perfectly  imagine  how  you  must  have  felt. 
You  haven't  got  over  it  yet,  even.  Sit  down. 
Sit  down."  He  said  no  word  of  apology  for 
his  mis  judgment  of  her,  but  his  tone  apolo- 
gized. 

"Oh!  I'm  perfectly  all  right  now,  thank 
you." 

"Please!"  He  slipped  off  the  table  and 
pulled  round  Miss  Grig's  chair  for  her. 

She  obediently  sat  down,  liking  to  be  agree- 
able to  him.  He  unlocked  his  own  cupboard 
and  brought  out  a  decanter  and  a  liqueur  glass. 
"Drink  this." 

"Please  what  is  it?" 

"Brandy.    Poison."    He  smiled. 

She  smiled,  sipped,  and  coughed  as  the  spirit 
burned  her  throat. 

"I  can't  drink  any  more,'*  she  appealed. 

"That's  all  right.     That's  all  right." 

It  was  his  humorous  use  of  the  word 
"poison"  that  touched  her.  This  sole  word 
changed  their  relations.     Hitherto  they  had 


Advice  to  the  Young  Beauty     35 

never  for  a  moment  been  other  than  employer 
and  employed.  Now  they  were  something 
else.  She  was  deeply  flattered,  assuaged,  and 
also  excited.  Brought  up  to  scorn  employ- 
ment, the  hardest  task  for  her  in  her  situa- 
tion in  the  Grig  office  had  been  to  admit  by 
her  deportment  that  there  was  a  bar  of  class 
between  her  employer  and  herself.  The  other 
girls  addressed  Mr.  Grig  as  "Sir";  but  she — 
never!  She  always  called  him  "]\Ir.  Grig," 
and  nothing  could  have  induced  her  to  say 
"Sir."  Now,  he  was  protecting  her;  he  had 
become  the  attendant  male ;  his  protection  en- 
veloped her  like  a  soft  swansdown  quilt,  ex- 
quisite, delicious.  And  it  was  night.  The 
night  created  romance.  Romance  suddenly 
filled  the  room  like  a  magic  vapour,  transform- 
ing him,  herself,  and  the  commonest  objects  of 
the  room,  into  something  ideal. 

"Several  times  I've  wanted  to  speak  to  you 
about  a  certain  matter,"  said  Mr.  Grig  quietly; 
and  paused,  gazing  at  the  smoke  from  his 
cigarette. 

"Oh,  yes?"  LiUian  murmured  nervously, 
and  strove  to  accomplish  the  demeanour  of  a 


36  Lilian 

young  woman  of  the  world.  (She  much  re- 
gretted that  she  had  her  wristlets  on. )  As  he 
was  not  looking  at  her  she  could  look  at  his 
face.  And  she  looked  at  it  as  though  she  had 
never  seen  it  before,  or  with  fresh-perceiving 
eyes.  A  very  clever,  rather  tired  face;  supe- 
rior, even  haughty,  self-sure;  fastidious,  dis- 
satisfied, the  face  of  one  accustomed  to  choose 
sardonically  between  two  evils;  impatient, 
bitter;  humorous,  with  hints  of  benevolence. 
She  thought:  "Of  course  he's  never  spoken  to 
me  because  of  his  sister.  Even  he  has  to  mind 
his  p's  and  q's  with  her.  And  he's  one  that 
hates  a  fuss.     Now  she  isn't  here " 

She  could  not  conceive  what  might  be  the 
"certain  matter."  She  thrilled  to  learn  it;  but 
he  would  not  be  hurried.  No,  he  would  take 
his  own  time,  Mr.  Grig  would.  This  was  the 
most  brilliant  moment  of  her  life. 

He  said,  looking  straight  at  her  and  forc- 
ing her  to  look  straight  at  him : 

"You  know  you've  no  business  in  a  place  like 
this,  a  girl  like  you.  You're  much  too  highly 
strung  for  one  thing.  You  aren't  like  Miss 
Jackson,  for  instance.    You're  simply  wasting 


Advice  to  the  Young  Beauty    37 

yourself  here.  Of  course  you're  terribly  in- 
dependent, but  you  do  try  to  please.  I  don't 
mean  try  to  please  merely  in  your  work.  You 
try  to  please.  It's  an  instinct  with  you.  Now 
in  typing,  you'd  never  beat  Miss  Jackson. 
Miss  Jackson's  only  alive,  really,  when  she's 
typing.  She  types  with  her  whole  soul.  You 
type  well — I  hear — but  that's  only  because 
you're  clever  all  round.  You'd  do  anything 
well.  You'd  milk  cows  just  as  well  as  you'd 
type.  But  your  business  is  marriage,  and  a 
good  marriage!  You're  beautiful,  and  as  I 
say,  you  have  an  instinct  to  please.  That's  the 
important  thing.  You'd  make  a  success  of 
marriage  because  of  that  and  because  you're 
adaptable  and  quick  at  picking  up.  Most 
women  when  they're  married  forget  that  their 
job  is  to  adapt  themselves  and  to  please. 
That's  their  joh.  They  expect  to  be  kowtowed 
to  and  spoilt  and  humoured  and  to  be  free  to 
spend  money  without  having  to  earn  it,  and 
to  do  nothing  in  return  except  just  exist — and 
perhaps  manage  a  household,  pretty  badly. 
They  seem  to  forget  that  there  are  two  sides 
to  a  bargain.     It's  dashed  hard  work,  pleas- 


38  Lilian 

ing  is,  sometimes.  I  know  that.  But  it  isn't 
so  hard  as  earning  money,  believe  me!  Now 
you  wouldn't  be  like  the  majority  of  women. 
You'd  keep  your  share  of  the  bargain,  and 
handsomely.  If  you  don't  marry,  and  marry 
fifty  miles  above  you,  you'll  be  very  silly.  For 
you  to  stop  here  is  an  outrage  against  common- 
sense.  It's  merely  monstrous.  If  I  wasn't 
an  old  man  I  wouldn't  tell  you  this,  naturally. 
Now  you  needn't  blush.  I  expect  I'm  not  far 
off  thirty  years  older  than  you — and  you're 
young  enough  to  be  wise  in  time." 

She  was  blushing  tremendously,  and  in  spite 
of  an  effort  of  courage  her  gaze  at  length 
dropped  from  his.  At  length  his  gaze  shifted, 
on  the  pretext  of  dropping  cigarette-ash  very 
carefully  into  an  ash-tray. 

He  had,  then,  been  thinking  about  her  all 
those  months,  differentiating  her  from  the 
others,  summing  her  up !  And  how  well  he  had 
summed  her  up,  and  how  well  he  had  expressed 
himself — so  romantically  (somehow)  and  yet 
with  such  obvious  truth!  (Of  course  he  had 
been  having  a  dig  at  his  own  wife,  who  had 
divorced  him!    You  could  see  how  embittered 


Advice  to  the  Young  Beauty     39 

he  was  on  the  subject  of  wives!)  She  won- 
dered if  he  had  thought  her  beautiful  for  long. 
Fancy  him  moving  about  the  office  and  form- 
ing ideas  about  all  of  them,  and  never  a  sign, 
never  the  slightest  sign  that  he  could  tell  one 
of  them  from  another!  And  he  had  chosen 
that  night  to  reveal  his  mind  to  her.  She  was 
inexpressibly  flattered.  Because  Mr.  Grig 
was  clearly  a  connoisseur, — she  had  always  felt 
that.  If  Mr.  Grig  considered  her  beauti- 
ful ...   ! 

And  in  fact  she  had  an  established  assurance 
of  beauty.  She  knew  a  good  deal  about  her- 
self. Proudly  she  reflected,  amid  her  blushes, 
upon  the  image  of  her  face  and  hair — the  eyes 
that  matched  her  hair,  the  perfectly  formed 
ears,  the  softness  of  the  chin  and  the  firmness 
of  the  nose,  the  unchallengeable  complexion, 
the  dazzling  teeth.  She  was  simple  enough  to 
be  somewhat  apologetic  about  the  largeness 
of  her  mouth,  unaware  that  a  man  of  experi- 
ence flees  from  a  small  rosebud  mouth  as  from 
the  devil,  and  that  a  large  mouth  is  the  certain 
sign  of  goodwill  and  understanding  in  a 
woman.     She  was  apologetic,  too,  about  the 


40  Lilian 

scragginess  of  her  neck,  and  with  better  reason. 
But  the  wrists  and  the  ankles,  the  legs,  the 
shoulders,  the  swelling  of  the  hips,  the  truly 
astounding  high,  firm,  and  abundant  bosom! 
Beyond  criticism!  And  she  walked  beauti- 
fully, throwing  back  her  shoulders  and  so  em- 
phasizing the  line  of  the  waist  at  the  back.  She 
walked  with  her  legs  and  hips,  and  the  body 
swam  forward  above  them.  She  had  observed 
the  effect  thousands  of  times  in  street  mirrors. 
The  girls  all  admitted  that  she  walked 
uniquely.  Then,  further,  she  had  a  smile 
(rarely  used)  which  would  intensify  in  the 
most  extraordinary  way  the  beauty  of  her 
face,  lighting  it,  electrifying  the  eyes,  radiat- 
ing a  charm  that  enraptured.  She  knew  that 
also.  A  superlative  physical  pride  rose  up  out 
of  the  subconscious  into  the  conscious,  and  put 
her  cheap  pretty  clothes  to  shame.  It  occurred 
to  her  that  Mr.  Grig  had  been  talking  very 
strangely,  very  unusually. 

"I  don't  suppose  I  shall  ever  marry,"  she 
said  plaintively.  "How  can  I?"  She  meant, 
and  without  doubt  he  understood:  "How  can 
I  possibly  meet  a  man  who  is  worth  marry- 


Advice  to  the  Young  Beauty     41 

ing?"  She  thought  with  destructive  disdain  of 
every  youth  who  had  ever  reacted  to  her 
charm.  The  company  at  the  dance  she  had 
missed  seemed  contemptible.  They  were  still 
dancing.  What  a  collection  of  tenth-rate  fel- 
lows! 

She  became  gloomy,  pessimistic,  as  she  saw 
the  totality  of  her  existence  and  its  prospects. 
The  home  at  Putney  had  been  a  prison.  She 
had  escaped  from  it,  but  only  to  enter  another 
prison.  She  saw  no  outlet.  She  was  trapped 
on  every  side.  She  could  not  break  out  of  the 
infernal  circle  of  poverty  and  of  the  conven- 
tions. Not  in  ten  years  could  she  save  enough 
to  keep  her  for  a  year.  She  had  to  watch  every 
penny.  If  she  was  mad  enough  to  go  to  a 
West  End  theatre  she  had  to  consider  the  dif- 
ference between  a  half-crown  and  a  three- 
shilling  pit.  Thousands  of  men  and  women 
negligently  fling  themselves  into  expensive 
taxis,  but  a  rise  in  bus  fares  or  tube  fares 
would  seriously  unbalance  Lilian's  budget. 
She  passed  most  of  her  spare  time  in  using  a 
needle  to  set  off  her  beauty,  but  what  a  farce 
was  the  interminable  study  and  labour!     She 


42  Lilian 

could  not  possibly  aspire  to  even  the  best 
gloves;  and  as  for  the  best  stockings,  or  the 
second  best ! — the  price  of  such  a  pair  came  to 
more  than  she  could  earn  in  a  week.  It  was 
all  absurd,  tragic,  pitiful.  She  had  common- 
sense  ample  enough  to  see  that  her  beauty  was 
futile,  her  ambitions  baseless,  and  her  pros- 
pects nil.  If  she  had  been  a  vicious  girl,  she 
might  have  broken  through  the  dreadful  ring 
into  splendours  which  she  glimpsed  and 
needed.    But  she  was  not  vicious. 

"Pooh!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Grig  impatiently. 
"You  could  marry  anybody  you  liked  if  you 
put  your  mind  to  it." 

And  he  spoke  so  scornfully  of  her  lack  of 
faith,  so  persuasively,  so  inspiringly,  that  she 
had  an  amazing  and  beautiful  vision  of  herself 
worshipped,  respected,  alluring,  seductive, 
arousing  passion,  reciprocating  passion,  kind, 
benevolent,  eternally  young,  eternally  lovely, 
eternally  exercising  for  the  balm  and  solace 
of  mankind  and  a  man  the  functions  for  which 
she  was  created  and  endowed, — in  a  word, 
fulfilling  herself.  And  for  a  moment,  in  the 
ecstasy  of  resolution  to  achieve  the  impossible. 


Advice  to  the  Young  Beauty     43 

she  was  superb  and  magnificent  and  the  finest 
thing  that  a  man  could  ever  hope  to  witness. 

And  she  thought  desperately: 

"I'm  twenty-three  already.  Time  is  rushing 
past  me.    To-morrow  I  shall  be  old." 

After  a  silence  Mr.  Grigg  said: 

"You're  very  tired.  There's  no  reason  why 
you  shouldn't  go  home  to  bed." 

"Indeed  I  shan't  go  home,  Mr.  Grig,"  she 
answered  sharply,  with  grateful,  eager  devo- 
tion. "I  shall  stay.  Supposing  some  work 
came  in!    It's  not  twelve  o'clock  yet." 

She  surprised  quite  a  youthful  look  on  Mr. 
Grig's  face.  Nearly  thirty  years  older  than 
herself?  Ridiculous!  There  was  nothing  at 
all  in  a  difference  of  years.  Some  men  were 
never  old.  Back  in  the  clerks'  room  she  got 
out  her  vanity  bag  and  carefully  arranged  her 
face.  And  as  she  looked  in  the  glass  she 
thought : 

"After  to-night  I  shall  never  be  quite  the 
same  girl  again.  .  .  .  Did  he  really  call  me 
in  to  ask  me  about  the  work,  or  did  he  only  do 
it  because  he  wanted  to  talk  to  me?" 


IV 

THE  CLUBMAN 

LILIAN  was  confused  by  a  momentary 
magnificent,  vague  vision  of  a  man 
framed  in  the  doorway  of  the  small  room.  The 
door,  drawn  backwards  from  without,  hid  the 
vision.  Then  there  was  a  cough.  She  realized 
with  alarm  that  she  had  been  asleep,  or  at  least 
dozing,  over  her  machine.  In  the  fifth  of  a 
second  she  was  wide  awake  and  alert. 

"Who's  there?"  she  called,  steadying  her 
voice  to  a  matter-of-fact  and  casual  tone. 

The  door  was  pushed  open,  and  the  man  who 
had  been  a  vision  entered. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  he.  "I  wasn't 
sure  whether  it  was  the  proper  thing  to  come 
in  here.  I  looked  into  another  room,  and  had 
a  glimpse  of  a  gentleman  who  seemed  to  be 
rather  dormant." 

"This  is  the  room  to  come  to,"  said  Lilian, 
with  a  prim  counterfeit  of  a  smile. 

44 


The  Clubman  45 


"The  office  is  open?" 

"Certainly." 

As  he  advanced  into  the  room  the  man  took 
off  the  glossy  silk  hat  which  he  was  wearing 
at  the  far  back  of  his  head.  He  had*  an  over- 
coat, but  carried  it  on  his  left  arm.  He  was 
tall  and  broad — something,  indeed,  in  the 
nature  of  a  giant — with  a  florid,  smooth  face ; 
aged  perhaps  thirty-three.  He  had  a  way  of 
pinching  his  lips  together  and  pressing  his 
lower  jaw  against  his  high  collar,  thus  making 
a  false  double  chin  or  so;  the  result  was  to 
produce  an  effect  of  wise  and  tolerant  good- 
humom%  as  of  one  who  knew  humanity,  and 
who  while  prepared  for  surprises  was  not  going 
to  judge  us  too  harshly.  He  was  in  full 
evening-dress,  and  his  clothes  were  superb. 
They  glistened;  they  fitted  without  a  crease. 
The  vast  curve  of  the  gleaming  stiff  shirt-front 
sloped  perfect  in  its  contour ;  the  white  waist- 
coat was  held  round  the  stupendous  form  by 
three  topaz  buttons ;  from  somewhere  beneath 
the  waistcoat  a  gold  chain  emerged  and  van- 
ished somewhere  into  the  hinterland  of  his  per- 
son.   The  stout  white  kid  gloves  were  thickly 


46  Lilian 

ridged  on  the  backs  and  fitted  the  broad  hands 
as  well  as  the  coat  fitted  the  body — it  was  in- 
conceivable that  they  had  not  been  made  to 
measure  as  everything  else  must  have  been 
made  to  measure.  The  man  would  have  been 
overdressed  had  he  not  worn  his  marvellous 
and  costly  garments  with  absolute  naturalness 
and  simplicity. 

Lilian  thought: 

"He  must  be  a  man-about-town,  a  clubman, 
the  genuine  article." 

She  was  im^'ressed,  secretly  flustered,  and 
very  anxious  to  meet  him  as  an  equal  on  his 
own  ground  of  fine  manners.  She  divined 
that,  having  entered  the  room  once  and  fairly 
caught  her  asleep,  he  had  had  the  good  taste 
to  withdraw  and  cough  and  make  a  new  entry 
in  order  to  spare  her  modesty;  and  she  was 
softly  appreciative,  while  quite  determined  to 
demonstrate  by  her  demeanour  that  she  had 
not  been  asleep. 

She  thought: 

"Gertie  Jackson  wouldn't  have  known  where 
to  look,  in  my  place." 

Still,  despite  her  disdain  of  Gertie  Jackson's 


The  Clubman  47 

deportment  she  felt  herself  to  be  terribly  un- 
proficient  in  the  social  art. 

"Is  it  anything  urgent?"  she  asked. 

"Well,  it  is  a  bit  urgent." 

He  had  a  strong,  full,  pleasant  voice." 

"Won't  you  sit  down?" 

"Thanks." 

He  sat  down,  disposing  his  hat  by  the  side 
of  her  machine,  and  his  overcoat  on  another 
chair,  and  drawing  off  his  gloves. 

Lilian  waited  like  a  cat  to  pounce  upon  the 
shghtest  sign  of  familiarity  and  kill  it ;  for  she 
had  understood  that  men-about-town  regarded 
girl  typists  as  their  quarry  and  as  nothing 
else.  But  there  was  no  least  lapse  from  defer- 
ential propriety ;  the  clubman  might  have  been 
in  colloquy  with  his  sister's  friend — and  his 
sister  listening  in  the  next  room.  He  pulled  a 
manuscript  from  his  breast-pocket,  and,  after 
a  loving  glance  at  it,  offered  it  to  her. 

"I've  only  just  written  it,"  said  he.  "And  I 
want  to  take  it  round  to  the  Evening  Standard 
office  myself  in  the  morning  before  8.30.  The 
editor's  an  acquaintance  of  mine  and  I  might 
get  it  into  to-morrow  afternoon's  paper.     In 


48  Lilian 

fact,  it  must  be  to-morrow  or  never — because 
of  the  financial  debate  in  the  House,  you  see. 
Topical.  I  wonder  whether  you'd  be  good 
enough  to  do  it  for  me." 

"Let  me  see,"  said  Lilian  professionally. 
"About  fifteen  hundred  words,  or  hardly.  Oh 
yes!    I  will  do  it  myself." 

"That's  very  kind  of  you.  Will  you  mind 
looking  at  the  writing?  Do  you  think  you'll 
be  able  to  make  it  out?  I  was  at  a  bit  of  a 
jolly  to-night,  and  my  hand's  never  too 
legible." 

Without  glancing  further  at  the  manuscript, 
Lilian  answered: 

"It's  our  business  to  make  out  writing." 

Suddenly  she  gave  him  her  full  smile. 

"I  suppose  it  is,"  he  said,  also  smiling.  "Now 
shall  I  call  for  the  copy  about  8  o'clock?" 

"I'm  afraid  the  office  won't  be  open  at  8 
o'clock,"  said  Lilian.  "We  close  at  6.30  for 
an  hour  or  two.  But  what's  the  address?  Is  it 
anywhere  near  here?" 

"6a  Jermyn  Street.  You'll  see  it  all  on 
the  back  of  the  last  page." 

"It  could  be  delivered — dropped  into  your 


The  Clubman  49 

letter-box — by  6.30  this  morning,  and  you 
could  take  it  out  of  the  box  any  time  after 
that."  The  idea  seemed  to  have  spontaneously 
presented  itself  to  her.  She  forbore  to  say 
that  her  intention  was  to  deliver  the  copy  her- 
self on  her  way  home. 

"But  this  is  most  awfully  obliging  of  you!" 
he  exclaimed. 

"Not  at  all.  You  see  we  specialize  in  urgent 
things.  .  .  .  We  charge  double  for  night- 
work,  I  ought  to  tell  you — in  fact,  three  shil- 
lings a  thousand,  with  a  minimum." 

"Of  course!  Of  course!  I  quite  understand 
that.  Perhaps  you'll  put  the  bill  in  the  enve- 
lope." He  drew  forth  a  watch  that  looked  like 
a  gold  half-crown.  "Two  o'clock.  And  I  can 
count  on  it  being  in  the  letter-box  at  six 
thirty." 

"Absolutely." 

"Well,  all  I  say  is  it's  very  wonderful." 

She  smiled  again:  "It's  just  our  business." 

He  bowed  gracefully  in  departing. 

As  soon  as  he  was  gone  she  looked  at  the 
back  of  the  last  page.  "Lord  Mackworth." 
Never  having  heard  of  such  a  lord,  she  con- 


50  Lilian 

suited  the  office  Who's  Who.  Yes,  he  was 
there.  "Mackworth,  Lord.  See  Fermanagh, 
Earl  of."  She  turned  to  the  F  pages.  He 
was  the  e.s.  of  the  Earl  of  Fermanagh.  E.s. 
meant  eldest  son,  she  assumed.  One  day  he 
would  be  an  earl.    She  was  thrilled. 

Eagerly  she  read  the  manuscript  before 
starting  to  copy  it.  The  subject  was  the  fall 
in  the  exchange  value  of  the  French  franc. 
"Abstruse"  she  called  it  to  herself.  Fright- 
fully learned !  Yet  the  article  was  quite  amus- 
ing to  read.  In  one  or  two  places  it  was  almost 
funny  enough  to  make  her  laugh.  And  Lord 
Mackworth  illustrated  his  points  by  the  prices 
of  commodities  and  pleasure  at  Monte  Carlo. 
Evidently  he  had  just  returned  from  Monte 
Carlo.  What  a  figure!  He  had  everything; 
title,  blood,  wealth,  style,  a  splendid  presence, 
perfect  manners;  he  was  intellectual,  he  was 
clever,  he  was  political,  he  wrote  for  the  press. 
And  withal  he  was  a  man  of  pleasure,  for  he 
had  been  to  Monte  Carlo,  and  that  very  night 
he  had  taken  part  in  a  "jolly" — whatever  a 
jolly  was! 

No!     He  was  not  married;  it  was  impos- 


The  Clubman  5^ 


sible  that  he  should  be  married.  But  naturally 
he  must  keep  mistresses.  They  always  kept 
mistresses.  Though  what  a  man  like  him 
could  see  in  that  sort  of  girl  passed  LiHan. 
"You  could  marry  anybody  you  liked  if  you 
put  your  mind  to  it,"  Mr.  Grig  had  said.  Ab- 
surdly, horribly  untrue!  How,  for  instance, 
could  she  set  about  to  marry  Lord  Mackworth? 
She  was  for  ever  imprisoned;  she  could  not 
possibly,  by  any  device,  break  through  the 
transparent,  invisible,  adamantine  walls  that 
surrounded  her.  Beautiful,  was  she?  Gifts, 
had  she?  Well,  she  had  sat  opposite  this  lord, 
close  to  him,  in  a  room  secure  from  interrup- 
tion, in  the  middle  of  the  night.  She  had  been 
obliging.  And  he  had  not  been  sufficiently 
interested  to  swerve  by  a  hair's  breadth  from 
his  finished  and  nonchalant  formal  politeness. 
Her  role  in  relation  to  Lord  Mackworth  was 
to  tap  out  his  clever  article  on  the  old  Under- 
wood and  to  deliver  it  herself  in  the  chilly 
darkness  of  the  morning  before  going  ex- 
hausted to  her  miserable  lodging !  She,  lovely ! 
She,  burning  with  ambition!  .  .  .  The  visit 
of  the  man  of  title  and  of  ^Darts  was  like  an  act 


52  Lilian 

of  God  to  teach  her  the  realities  of  her  situa- 
tion and  the  dangerous  folly  of  dreams. 

She  tiptoed  out  of  the  room  to  see  if  Mr. 
Grig  really  was  asleep  as  Lord  Mackworth 
had  suggested.  She  hoped  that  he  was  un- 
conscious and  that  the  visit  was  her  secret. 
Either  he  was  very  soundly  asleep  or  the  stir 
of  the  arrival  and  departure  must  have  awak- 
ened him.  If  he  was  awake  she  would  pretend 
that  she  had  wanted  to  inform  him  of  the  job 
just  come  in,  since  he  had  previously  enquired 
about  the  course  of  business.  If  not,  she  would 
say  nothing  of  the  affair, — merely  enter  up 
the  job  in  the  night- book,  and  wait  for  any 
inquiries  that  might  be  made  before  opening 
her  mouth. 

Through  the  door  ajar  Mr.  Grig  could  be 
seen  fast  asleep  in  his  padded  chair.  His  lower 
jaw  had  fallen,  revealing  a  mouth  studded  with 
precious  metal.  He  was  generally  spry,  in  his 
easy-going  manner,  and  often  had  quite  a 
youthful  air,  but  now  there  could  be  no  mis- 
take about  his  age,  which  according  to  Lilian's 
standard  of  age  was  advanced.  To  Lihan 
forty  was  oldish,  fifty  quite  old,  and  sixty  ven- 


The  Clubman  53 

erable.  What  a  contrast  between  the  fresh, 
briHiant,  authentic  youth  of  Lord  Mack- 
worth  and  the  imitation  juvenility  of  Mr. 
Grig  even  at  his  spryest!  The  souvenir  of 
Lord  Mackworth's  physical  individuality  made 
the  sight  of  Mr.  Grig  almost  repellent.  She 
was  divided  from  Mr.  Grig  by  the  greatest  dif- 
ference in  the  world,  the  difference  between 
one  generation  and  another. 

She  crept  back,  resolving  to  accomplish  the 
finest  piece  of  tjrpescript  that  had  ever  been 
done  in  the  office.  Had  she  not  brains  to  sur- 
pass Gertie  Jackson  at  anything  if  she  chose 
to  try?  Just  as  she  was  entering  her  own 
room  the  outer  door  of  the  office  opened.  More 
urgent  work !  It  was  Lord  Mackworth  again. 
She  stood  stock-still  in  the  doorway,  her  head 
thrown  back  and  turned  towards  him,  her 
body  nearly  within  the  room.  Agitated  by  a 
sudden  secret  anticipation,  by  a  pleasure  ut- 
terly unhoped  for,  she  gave  him  a  nervous, 
welcoming,  enquiring  smile,  a  smile  without 
reserve,  and  full  of  the  confidence  due  to  one 
who  had  proved  at  once  his  reliability  and  his 
attractiveness.    She  had  a  feeling  towards  him 


54  Lilian 

as  towards  an  old  friend.  She  knew  that  her 
face  was  betraying  her  joy,  but  she  did  not 
care,  because  she  trusted  him ;  and  moreover  it 
would  in  any  case  have  been  impossible  for  her 
to  hide  her  joy. 

"There's  just  one  thing,"  began  Lord 
Mackworth  in  a  cautious  whisper,  though 
previously  he  had  put  no  restraint  on  his 
powerful  voice,  and  paused. 

"Will  you  come  in?"  she  invited  him,  also  in 
a  whisper,  and  moved  quickly  from  his  line  of 
sight.  He  followed  her,  and  having  entered 
her  room,  softly  shut  the  door,  which  at  the 
previous  interview  had  remained  half  open. 

"Will  you  sit  down?" 

They  both  sat  down  in  their  original  po- 
sitions. Yes,  they  were  like  friends.  More, 
they  were  like  conspirators.  Why?  What 
would  the  next  moment  disclose?  It  seemed 
to  her  that  the  next  moment  must  unfold  into 
an  unpredictable,  beautiful  blossom  such  as 
nobody  had  ever  seen.  She  was  intensely  ex- 
cited. She  desired  ardently  that  he  should 
ask  her  to  help  him  in  some  matter  in  which 
she  alone  could  help  him.    She  was  a  touching, 


The  Clubman  55 

wistful  spectacle.  All  her  defences  had  sunk 
away.  He  could  not  but  see  that  he  had  made 
a  conquest,  that  the  city  of  loveliness  had 
fallen  into  his  hands. 

"It  just  occurred  to  me — please  tell  me 
if  I'm  being  indiscreet — that  perhaps  you 
wouldn't  mind  doing  me  a  little  service.  I 
may  oversleep  myself  in  the  morning,  and  I 
can't  get  at  my  man  now.  Would  you  mind 
giving  me  a  ring  up  on  the  'phone  about  six 
o'clock?  You  see  I  have  the  telephone  by  my 
bed,  and  it  would  be  sure  to  wake  me — 
especially  if  you  told  the  operator  to  keep  on 
ringing.  It's  very  necessary  I  should  run 
along  to  the  newspaper  office  and  see  the 
editor  personally  as  soon  as  he  gets  there. 
Otherwise  I  might  be  done  in.     Of  course  I 

could  sit  up  for  the  rest  of  the  night "  He 

laughed  shortly. 

Nearly  opposite  the  end  of  Clifford  Street, 
in  Bond  Street,  was  a  hosier's  shop  with  the 
royal  arms  over  the  entrance  and  half-a-dozen 
pairs  of  rich  blue-and-crimson  pyjamas — and 
nothing  else — displayed  in  the  window  against 
a  chaste  background  of  panelled  acacia  wood. 


56  Lilian 

Lilian  saw  a  phantasm  of  her  dient's  lordly 
chamber,  with  the  bed  and  the  telephone  by 
the  bed,  and  the  great  form  of  the  man  himself 
recumbent  and  moveless,  gloriously  and  im- 
perfectly covered  in  a  suit  of  the  blue-and- 
crimson  pyjamas.  She  heard  the  telephone 
bell  ring — ring — ring — ring — ring,  pertinaci- 
ously. The  figure  did  not  stir.  Ring — ring — 
ring — ring!  At  last  the  figure  stirred,  turned 
over,  half  sat  up,  seized  the  telephone,  which, 
pacified,  ceased  to  ring,  and  the  figure  listened 
to  her  voice !  It  was  her  voice  that  was  heard 
in  the  chamber.  .  .  .  The  most  sharply  mas- 
culine hallucination  that  she  had  ever  had, 
perhaps  the  only  one.  It  moved  her,  to  the 
point  of  fright.  The  whole  house  might  have 
rocked  under  her — rocked  once,  and  then 
resumed  its  firmness.  She  felt  faint,  terror- 
struck,  and  excruciatingly,  inexplicably  happy^ 
And  she  was  ashamed ;  she  was  shocked  by  the 
mystery  of  herself.  Flushing,  she  bent  her 
face  over  the  desk. 

"Perhaps  I'd  better  sit  up  all  night,"  Lord 
Mackworth  added  apologetically. 


The  Clubman  57 

"What's  your  number?"  she  asked  in  a  low 
voice,  not  looking  up. 

"Regent  1067." 

"Regent  1067,"  she  repeated  the  number, 
even  writing  it  on  her  note  pa,d. 

"You're  really  awfully  kind.  I  hesitated  to 
suggest  it.    I  do  hope  you'll  forgive  me." 

She  looked  up  quickly,  and  into  his  eyes. 

"I  shall  be  delighted  to  give  you  a  ring," 
she  said,  with  sweet,  smiling  eagerness.  "It's 
no  trouble  at  all.    None  at  all,  I  assure  you." 

She  was  the  divine  embodiment  of  the 
human  and  specially  feminine  desire  to  please, 
to  please  charmingly,  to  please  completely,  to 
please  with  the  whole  force  and  beauty  of  her 
individuality.  The  poor  boy  must  get  a  few 
hours'  sleep.  A  man  needed  sleep;  sleep  was 
important  to  him.  As  for  her,  the  woman's 
task  was  to  watch  and  work,  and  when  the 
moment  came  she  would  wake  the  man — the 
child — who  was  incapable  of  waking  himself. 

"Well,  thanks  ever  so  much."    He  rose. 

"I  suppose  you  don't  want  a  carbon  of  your 
article  as  well?"  she  suggested. 


58  Lilian 

"It's  an  idea,"  he  agreed.  "You  never  know. 
I  think  I  will  have  a  carbon." 

As  he  was  leaving  he  said  abruptly:  "Do 
you  know,  I  imagine  I've  seen  you  before — 
somewhere." 

"I  don't  think  so."  She  did  not  quite  like 
this  remark  of  his.  It  seemed  to  her  to  be  a 
commonplace  device  for  prolonging  the  inter- 
view; it  shook  her  faith  in  his  probity. 

But  he  insisted,  nodding  his  head. 

"Yes.  In  Bond  Street.  I  remember  you 
were  wearing  an  exceedingly  pretty  hat,  with 
some  yellow  flowers  in  it." 

She  was  dumbfounded,  for  she  did  possess 
a  pretty  hat  with  yellow  flowers  in  it.  She  had 
done  him  an  injustice.  Fancy  him  noticing 
her,  admiring,  remembering!  It  was  incred- 
ible. She  must  have  made  a  considerable  im- 
pression on  him.  She  smiled  her  repentance 
for  having  doubted  his  probity  even  for  a  mo- 
ment. 

"You  must  have  a  very  good  memory,"  she 
said,  in  her  gaze  an  exquisite  admission  of  his 
rightness. 

"Oh I    I  have!" 


The  Clubman  59 


They  shook  hands.  In  holding  out  her  hand 
she  drew  back  her  body.  She  had  absurdly 
hoped  that  he  would  offer  to  shake  hands,  not 
really  expecting  him  to  do  so.  He  departed 
with  unimpeachable  correctness  and  compo- 
sure. What  nice  discretion  he  had  shown  in 
not  referring  earlier  to  the  fact  that  her  face 
was  not  unknown  to  him!  Most  men  would 
have  contrived  to  work  it  in  at  the  very  be- 
ginning of  the  conversation.  But  he  had 
actually  gone  away,  the  first  time,  without 
mentioning  it. 

Lilian  was  left  in  such  a  state  of  exaltation 
that  she  could  not  immediately  start  to  work. 
She  was  ecstatically  inspired  with  a  resolution, 
far  transcending  all  previous  yearnings  of  a 
similar  nature,  to  fulfil  herself,  to  be  herself 
utterly,  to  bring  her  gifts  to  fruition  despite 
all  obstacles  and  all  impossibilities.  It  was  not 
that  she  desired  to  please  Lord  Mackworth 
(though  she  passionately  desired  to  please 
him ) ,  nor  to  achieve  luxury  and  costliness  and 
elegance  and  a  highly  refined  way  of  life. 
These  things,  however  important  and  delect- 


6o  Lilia 


n 


able,  were  merely  the  necessary  incidentals  to 
the  supreme  end  of  exploiting  her  beauty, 
charm,  and  benevolence  so  that  in  old  age  she 
would  not  have  to  say,  "I  might  have  been." 


THE  DEVOTEE 

IT  was  after  she  had  made  some  tea  and  was 
taking  at,  it  her  desk,  without  milk,  but 
with  a  bun  and  a  half  left  over  from  the  pre- 
vious afternoon's  orgy  of  the  small  room  clerks, 
that  Lilian  had  the  idea  of  a  mighty  and 
scarcely  conceivable  transgression,  crime,  dep- 
redation. None  of  the  fachines  in  the  small 
room  was  in  quite  first-class  order.  The  ma- 
chines were  good,  but  they  needed  adjustment. 
JSIiss  G. — the  clerks  referred  to  her  as  Miss  G., 
instead  of  Miss  Grig,  when  they  were  critical 
of  her,  which  was  often — was  almost  certainly 
a  just  woman,  but  she  was  mean,  especially  in 
the  matter  of  wages;  and  she  would  always 
postpone  rather  too  long  the  summoning  of  a 
mechanic  to  overhaul  the  typewriters.  Such 
delay  was,  of  course,  disadvantageous  to  the 
office,  but  Miss  G.  was  like  that.  Lilian, 
munching,  inserted  two  sheets  and  a  new  car- 

61 


62,  Lillian 

bon  into  her  machine,  and  then  pulled  them  out 
again  with  a  swift  swish.  Why  should  she  not 
abstract  Miss  G.'s  own  machine  for  the  high 
purpose  of  typing  Lord  Mackworth's  brilliant 
article?    It  was  nearly  a  new  one. 

Miss  G.  was  a  first-rate  typist.  She  typed 
all  her  own  letters  and  regularly  at  night  even 
did  copying ;  and  she  always  had  the  star  ma- 
chine of  the  office.  The  one  objection  to 
Lilian's  nefarious  scheme  was  the  fact  that 
Miss  G.'s  machine  ranked  as  the  Ark  of  the 
Covenant,  and  the  rule  forbidding  the  profane 
to  lay  hands  on  it  was  absolute  and  awful. 
This  rule  was  a  necessity  in  the  office,  where 
every  machine  amounted  to  an  individuality, 
and  was  loved  or  hated  and  shamelessly 
intrigued  for  or  against.  Lilian  knew  a 
little  of  Miss  G.'s  machine,  for  on  its  purchase 
she  had  had  the  honour  of  trying  it  and  rein- 
forcing Miss  G.'s  favourable  judgment  upon 
it,  her  touch  being  lighter  than  Gertie  Jack- 
son's, that  amiable,  tedious  hack,  and  similar 
to  Miss  G.'s  touch. 

Lilian  feared  lest  her  own  machine  might 
give  a  slip  towards  the  end  of  a  page,  throw 


The  Devotee  63 

a  line  out  of  the  straight  and  spoil  the  whole 
page.  Miss  G.'s  machine  was  on  the  small 
desk  beneath  the  window  in  the  principals' 
room.  Having  reflected,  she  decided  to  sin. 
If  Mr.  Grig  was  awake  she  would  tell  him 
squarely  that  her  own  machine  was  out  of  gear, 
that  all  the  clerks'  machines  were  out  of  gear, 
and  if  he  still  objected — and  he  might,  for  he 
ever  feared  Miss  G. — she  would  bewitch  him. 
She  would  put  his  own  theory  of  her  powers 
into  practice  upon  himself.  She  would  be  quite 
unscrupulous ;  she  would  stop  at  nothing.  She 
went  forth  excited  on  her  raid.  He  was  still 
asleep.  He  might  waken;  if  he  did,  so  much 
the  worse;  she  must  risk  it.  She  regarded 
him  with  friendly  condescension.  She  had 
work  to  do;  she  had  a  sense  of  responsibility, 
and  she  was  doing  the  work.  He,  theoretically 
in  charge  of  the  office,  slept,  probably  after 
a  day  chiefly  idle, — the  grey-haired,  charming, 
useless  irresponsible.  And  were  not  all  men 
asleep  rather  absurd?  She  picked  up  the 
heavy  machine;  one  of  its  india-rubber  shoes 
dropped  off,  but  she  left  that  where  it  lay, — 
there  were  plenty  to  replace  it  in  her  room. 


64  Lilian 

Soundlessly  she  left  the  sleeper.  Triumphant, 
unscrupulous,  reckless,  she  did  not  care  what 
might  happen. 

At  work  on  the  article,  exulting  in  the 
smooth  excellence  of  Miss  G.'s  machine,  she 
felt  strangely  happy.  She  liked  Felix  to  be 
asleep;  she  liked  the  obscure  sensation  of 
fatigue  at  the  back  of  her  brain;  she  liked  to 
be  alone  in  the  night,  amid  a  resting  or  royster- 
ing  world;  she  liked  the  tension  of  concen- 
trating on  the  work,  the  effort  after  perfection. 
The  very  machine  itself,  and  the  sounds  of  the 
machine,  the  feel  of  the  paper,  the  faint  hiss 
of  the  gas-stove,  were  all  friendly  and  helpful. 
How  different  were  her  sensations  then  from 
her  sensations  in  the  pother  and  racket  and 
friction  of  the  daytime!  She  forgot  that  she 
was  beautiful  and  born  to  enchant.  She  was 
oblivious  of  both  the  past  and  the  future.  A 
moral  exaltation,  sweet  and  gentle,  inspired, 
upheld,  and  exhilarated  her. 

She  heard  the  outer  door  open.  The  threat- 
ened interruption  annoyed  her  almost  to  ex- 
asperation. It  was  essential  that  she  should 
not  be  interrupted,  for  she  was  like  a  poet  in 


The  Devotee  65 

full  flow  of  creation.  Footsteps,  someone 
moving  hesitatingly  to  and  fro  in  the  ante- 
room! There  was  the  word  "Enquiries" 
printed  in  black  on  the  glass  panel  of  the  small 
room,  thrown  into  relief  by  the  light  within  the 
room,  and  people  had  not  the  sense  to  see  it. 
The  public  was  really  extraordinary.  Even 
Lord  Mackworth  had  not  at  first  noticed  it. 
Well,  let  whoever  it  might  be  find  his  way 
about  unaided  by  her.  She  would  not  budge. 
If  urgent  work  had  arrived,  she  did  not  want 
it,  could  not  do  it,  and  would  not  have  it. 

Then  she  caught  voices.  The  visitor  had  got 
into  the  principals'  room  and  wakened  Mr. 
Grig.  The  voices  were  less  audible  now  but 
a  conversation  seemingly  interminable  was  pro- 
ceeding in  the  principals'  room.  The  sus- 
pense vexed  her  and  interfered  with  the  fine 
execution  of  her  task.  She  sighed,  tapped  her 
foot,  and  made  sounds  of  protest  with  her 
tongue  against  her  upper  teeth.  At  length 
both  Mr.  Grig  and  the  visitor  emerged  into 
the  ante-room,  still  tirelessly  gabbling.  The 
visitor  went,  banging  the  outer  door.  Mr. 
Grig  came  into  her  room  with  a  manuscript 


(i(y  Lilii 


tan 


in  his  hand.  Feigning  absorption,  she  did  not 
look  up. 

"Here's  something  wanted  for  eleven  in  the 
morning.  It's  going  to  be  called  for.  Proof 
of  a  witness's  evidence  in  a  law  case.  Very- 
urgent.  It's  pretty  long.  You'd  better  get 
on  to  it  at  once.  Then  one  or  two  of  them'll 
be  able  to  finish  it  between  nine  and  eleven." 

Lilian  accused  him  in  her  mind  of  merely- 
imitating  his  sister's  methods  of  organization 
and  partition. 

"I'm  afraid  I  can't  put  this  aside,  Mr.  Grig," 
she  said  gravely,  uncompromisingly. 

"What  is  it?" 

"It's  just  come  in.'* 

"I  never  heard  anybody,"  Fehx  snapped. 

Lilian  thought  how  queer  and  how  unjust 
it  was  that  she  should  be  prevented  by  her 
inferior  station  from  turning  on  him  and 
bluntly  informing  him  that  he  had  been  asleep 
instead  of  managing  the  office. 

"It's  an  article  by  Lord  Mackworth  for  to- 
morrow's 'Evening  Standard,  and  it  has  to  be 
at  the  Standard  office  by  half-past  eight,  and 


The  Devotee  67 

I've  promised  to  have  it  delivered  at  Jermyn 
Street  by  six-thirty." 

"But  who's  going  to  deliver  it?" 

"I  am,  as  I  go  home." 

"But  this  is  urgent,  too.  And  what's  more, 
I've  definitely  promised  it,"  Mr.  Grig  pro- 
tested, waving  his  manuscript  somewhat  for- 
lornly.   "What  length's  yours?" 

"It's  not  the  length.  It  has  to  be  done  with 
the  greatest  care." 

"Yes,  that's  all  very  well,  but " 

His  attitude  of  helplessness  touched  her. 
She  smiled  in  her  serious  manner. 

"If  you'll  leave  it  to  me  to  see  to,  Mr.  Grig," 
she  said  soothingly,  and  yet  a  little  superiorly, 
"I'll  do  the  best  I  can.  I'll  start  it  anyhow. 
And  I'll  leave  an  urgent  note  for  Miss  Jack- 
son about  it.  After  all,  in  two  hours  they 
ought  to  be  able  to  do  almost  anything,  and 
you  know  how  reliable  Miss  Jackson  is.  Miss 
Grig  always  relies  on  her." 

She  held  out  her  hand  for  the  wretched  man- 
uscript. Mr.  Grig  yielded  it  up,  pretending 
unwillingness  and  uneasiness,  but  in  reality 
much  relieved.     A  quarter  of  an  hour  later 


68  Lilian 

he  returned  to  her  room  in  overcoat  and  hat. 

"I  think  I  may  as  well  go  home  now,"  said 
he,  yawning  enormously.  "I'm  a  bit  anxious 
about  my  sister.  Nothing  else  likely  to  come 
in,  is  there?    You'll  be  all  right,  I  suppose." 

''Mer  she  exclaimed  kindly.  "Of  course, 
Mr.  Grig.    I  shall  be  perfectly  all  right." 

She  wondered  whether  he  really  was  anxious 
about  his  sister.  At  any  rate  he  had  not  the 
stamina  to  sit  up  through  all  the  night  in  the 
office.  But  she,  Lilian,  had.  She  was  delighted 
to  be  alone  again.  She  finished  Lord  Mack- 
worth's  article,  read  it  and  re-read  it.  Not  a 
mistake.  She  bound  it  and  stitched  it.  She 
entered  the  item  in  the  night-book.  She  made 
out  the  bill.  She  typed  the  address  on  the 
envelope.  Then,  before  fastening  the  envelope, 
she  read  through  everything  again.  All  these 
things  she  did  with  the  greatest  dehberation 
and  nicety. 

At  the  end  she  had  ample  time  to  make  a 
start  on  the  other  work,  but  she  could  not  or 
would  not  bring  herself  to  the  new  task.  She 
was  content  to  write  a  note  for  Gertie  John- 
son, shifting  all  the  responsibility  on  to  Gertie. 


The  Devotee  69 

Gertie  would  have  to  fly  round  and  make  the 
others  fly  round.  And  if  the  work  was  late — 
what  then?  Lihan  did  not  care.  Her  con- 
science seemed  to  have  exhausted  itself.  She 
sat  in  a  bhssful  trance.  She  recalled  with  sat- 
isfaction that  she  had  said  nothing  to  Fehx 
about  Lord  Mackworth  having  called  in  per- 
son. She  rose  and  wandered  about  the  rooms, 
savouring  the  silent  solitude.  The  telephone 
was  in  the  principals'  room.  How  awkward 
that  might  have  been  if  Felix  had  stayed !  But 
he  had  not  stayed. 


VI 

THE  TELEPHONE 

"XT  ELLO,  hello!    Who  is  it?" 
11      "Is  that  Regent  1067?" 

"Yes." 

"Is  that  Lord  Mackworth?" 

"Speaking.    Who  is  it?" 

"Grig's  Typewriting  Office.  I'm  so  sorry 
to  wake  you  up,  but  you  asked  us  to.  It's  just 
past  six  o'clock." 

"Thanks  very  much.    Who  is  it  speaking?" 

"Grig's  Typewriting  Office." 

"Yes.    But  your  name?    Miss— Miss ?" 

"Oh!  I  see.  Share.  Share.  Lilian  Share. 
,  .  .  Not  Spare,  S-^-a-r-e." 

"I've  got  it.  Share.  I  recognized  your 
voice,  Miss  Share.  Well,  it's  most  extraordi- 
narily good-natured  of  you.  Most.  I  can't 
thank  you  enough.  Excuse  me  asking  your 
name.  I  only  wanted  it  so  that  I  could  thank 
you  personally.    Article  finished?" 

70 


The  Telephone  71 

"It's  all  finished  and  ready  to  be  delivered. 
It'll  be  dropped  into  your  letter-box  in  about 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  from  now.  You  can  rely 
on  that." 

"Then  do  you  keep  messengers  hanging 
about  all  night  for  these  jobs?" 

"I'm  going  to  deliver  it  myself,  then  I  shall 
know  it  is  delivered." 

"D'you  know,  I  half -suspected  all  along  you 
meant  to  do  that.  You  oughtn't  really  to  put 
yourself  to  so  much  trouble.  I  don't  know 
how  to  thank  you.    I  don't  really!" 

"It's  no  trouble  at  all.  It's  on  my  way 
home." 

"You're  just  going  home,  then?  You  must 
be  very  tired." 

"Oh,  no!  I  sleep  in  the  daytime." 

"Well,  I  hope  you'll  have  a  good  day's  rest." 
A  laugh. 

"And  I  hope  now  I've  wakened  you  you 
won't  turn  over  and  go  to  sleep  again."  An- 
other laugh,  from  the  same  end. 

"No  fear!    I'm  up  now." 

"I  beg  your  pardon?" 


72  Lilian 

"I'm  up.  Out  of  bed."  A  laugh  from  the 
Clifford  Street  end. 

"Good-bye,  then." 

"Good-bye.  And  thanks  again.  By  the 
way,  you're  putting  the  bill  with  it?" 

"Oh  yes." 

"And  the  carbon?" 

"Yes.    Good-bye." 

"Good-bye,  Miss  Share." 

Lilian  hung  up  the  receiver,  smiling.  And 
she  continued  to  smile  as  she  left  the  room 
and  went  to  her  own  room  and  took  her  street 
things  out  of  the  cupboard  and  put  them  on. 
Nothing  could  have  been  more  banal,  more 
ordinary,  and  nothing  more  exquisite  and  ro- 
mantic, than  the  telephone  conversation.  The 
secret  charm  of  it  was  inexphcable  to  her. 
.  .  .  She  saw  him  standing  in  the  blue-and- 
crimson  pyjamas  by  the  bedside,  a  form  dis- 
tinguished and  powerful.  .  .  .  She  revelled 
in  his  gratitude.  How  nice  of  him  to  ask  her 
name  so  that  he  might  thank  her  personally! 
He  did  not  care  to  thank  a  nameless  employee. 
He  wanted  to  thank  somebody.  And  now  she 
was  somebody  to  him. 


The  Telephone  73 

Perhaps  she  had  not  been  well-advised  to 
give  him  her  Christian  name.  The  word,  how- 
ever, had  come  out  of  itself.  Moreover  she 
liked  her  Christian  name,  and  she  liked  nice 
people  to  know  it.  She  certainly  ought  not 
to  have  said  "that"  about  his  not  turning  over 
and  going  to  sleep  again.  No.  There  was 
something  "common"  in  it.  But  he  had  ac- 
cepted the  freedom  in  the  right  spirit,  had  not 
taken  advantage  of  it. 

She  extinguished  the  gas-stove,  restored  the 
stolen  typewriter,  loosed  the  catch  of  the 
outer  door,  banged  the  door  after  her,  and  de- 
scended, holding  the  foolscap  envelope  in  her 
shabbily  gloved  hand.  The  forsaken  solitude 
of  the  office  was  behind  her. 

Outside,  an  icy  mist  floated  over  wet  pave- 
ments in  the  first  dim,  sinister  unveiling  of 
the  London  day!  Lilian  wore  a  thick,  broad, 
woollen  scarf  which  comforted  her  neck  and 
bosom,  and  gave  to  beholders  the  absurd  illu- 
sion that  she  was  snugly  enveloped,  but  the 
assaulting  cold  took  her  in  the  waist,  and  she 
shivered.  Her  feet  began  to  feel  damp  imme- 
diately.   There  was  the  old  watchman  peeping 


74  Lilia 


n 


out  of  his  sentry-box  by  his  glowing  brazier! 
He  recognized  her  quickly  enough,  and  with- 
out a  movement  of  the  gnarled  face  held  up 
her  matchbox  as  a  sign  of  the  bond  between 
them.  How  ridiculous  to  have  classed  him 
with  burglars!  She  threw  her  head  back  and 
gave  him  a  proud,  bright  and  rather  conde- 
scendingly gracious  smile. 

Along  Clifford  Street  and  all  down  Bond 
Street,  the  heaped  dustbins  stood  on  the  kerb 
waiting  for  the  scavengers.  In  Piccadilly 
several  Lyons'  horse-vans,  painted  in  Oxford 
and  Cambridge  blues,  trotted  sturdily  east- 
wards; one  of  them  was  driven  by  a  woman, 
wrapped  in  a  great  mackintosh,  and  perched 
high  aloft  with  a  boy  beside  her.  Nothing  else 
moving  in  the  thoroughfare !  The  Ritz  Hotel, 
formidable  fortress  of  luxury,  stood  up  arro- 
gant like  a  Florentine  palace,  hiding  all  its 
costly  secrets  from  the  scorned  mob.  No.  6a 
Jermyn  Street  was  just  round  the  corner  from 
St.  James's  Street:  a  narrow  seven-storey 
building  of  flats,  with  a  front  door  as  impassive 
and  meaningless  as  the  face  of  a  footman. 
Lilian  hesitated  a  moment  and  relinquished  her 


The  Telephone  75 

packet  into  the  brass-bordered  letter-slit.  She 
heard  it  fall.  She  turned  away  with  a  jerky- 
gesture.  She  had  not  walked  ten  yards  when 
a  frightful  lassitude  and  dejection  attacked 
her  with  the  suddenness  of  cholera.  Scarcely 
could  she  command  her  limbs  to  move.  The 
ineffable  sadness,  hopelessness,  wretchedness, 
vanity  of  existence  washed  over  her  and  beat 
her  down.  Only  a  very  few  could  be  glorious, 
and  she  was  not  and  never  could  be  of  the 
few.  She  was  shut  out  from  brightness — no 
better  than  a  ragamuffin  looking  into  a  candy 
window. 

She  descended  into  the  everlasting  lamplit 
night  of  the  Tube  at  Dover  Street,  where  there 
was  no  dawn  and  no  sunset.  And  all  the  em- 
ployees, and  all  the  meek,  preoccupied  travel- 
lers seemed  to  be  her  brothers  and  sisters  in 
martyrdom.  Her  train  was  nearly  empty ;  but 
the  eastbound  trains — ^train  after  train — were 
full  of  pathetic  midgets  urgently  engaged 
upon  the  problem  of  making  both  ends  meet. 
After  Earl's  Court  the  train  ran  up  an  incline 
into  the  whitening  day.     She  got  out  at  the 


76  Lilian 

next  station,  conveniently  near  to  which  she 
lodged. 

The  house  was  one  of  the  heavily  porched 
erections  of  the  'fifties  and  'sixties,  much  fallen 
in  prestige.  The  dirty  kitchenmaid  was  giv- 
ing the  stone  floor  of  the  porch  a  lick  and  a 
promise,  so  that  fortunately  the  front  door 
stood  open.  Lilian  had  the  tiny  mean  bed- 
room on  the  second  floor  over  the  hall;  in 
New  York  it  would  have  been  termed  hall- 
bedroom.  Nobody  except  the  gawky,  frowsy, 
stupid,  good-natured  maid  had  seen  her.  She 
shut  her  door  and  locked  it.  The  room  was 
colder  even  than  the  street.  She  looked  into 
the  mirror,  which  was  so  small  that  she  had 
had  to  arrange  a  descending  series  of  nails  for 
it  in  order  that  piece  by  piece  she  might  in- 
spect the  whole  of  herself.  Her  face  was  as 
pale  as  a  corpse.  Undressing  and  piling  half 
her  wardrobe  on  to  the  counterpane  she  slipped 
into  the  narrow  bed,  ravenous  for  sleep  and 
oblivion,  and  drew  the  clothes  right  over  her 
head.  In  an  instant  she  was  in  a  paradise  of 
divine  dreams. 


PART  TWO 


Part  Two 


THE  SUICIDE 

THE  next  morning  Lilian  left  her  lodging 
at  the  customary  hour  of  8.15,  to  join 
one  of  the  hundreds  of  hastening,  struggling, 
preoccupied  processions  of  workers  that  con- 
verged upon  central  London.  She  had  slept 
for  ten  hours  without  a  break  on  the  previous 
day,  risen  hungry  to  a  confused  and  far  too 
farinaceous  tea,  done  some  dressmaking  by  the 
warmth  of  an  oil-stove,  and  gone  to  bed  again 
for  another  enormous  period  of  heavy  slumber. 
She  was  well  refreshed;  her  complexion  was 
restored  to  its  mai'vellous  perfectness ;  and  life 
seemed  simpler,  more  promising,  and  more 
agreeably  exciting  than  usual. 

She  had  convinced  herself  that  the  Irish  lord 
would  call  at  the  office  in  person  to  pay  his 
bill ;  the  mysterious  and  yet  thoroughly  under- 

79 


8o  Lilian 

stood  code  that  governs  certain  human  rela- 
tions would  forbid  him  either  to  post  a  cheque 
or  to  send  his  man  with  the  money.  Her  only 
fear  was  that  he  might  already  have  called. 
But  even  if  he  had  already  called,  he  would 
call  and  call  again,  on  one  good  pretext  or  an- 
other until.  .  .  .  Anyhow  they  would  meet. 
,  .  .  And  so  on,  according  to  the  inconsequent 
logic  of  day-dreams  in  the  everlasting  night 
of  the  Tube. 

The  dreamer  had  a  seat  in  the  train — one 
of  the  advantages  of  living  near  the  terminus 
— but  straphangers  of  both  sexes  swayed  in 
clusters  over  her,  and  along  the  whole  length 
of  the  car,  and  both  the  platforms  were  too 
densely  populated.  She  could  not  read; 
nobody  could  read.  As  the  train  roared  and 
shook  through  Down  Street  station,  she 
jumped  up  to  fight  her  way  through  strap- 
hangers towards  the  platform,  in  readiness  to 
descend  at  Dover  Street.  On  these  early 
trains  carrying  serious  people,  if  you  sat  quiet 
until  the  train  came  to  your  station  you  would 
assuredly  be  swept  on  to  the  next  station. 


The  Suicide  8 1 


These  trains  taught  you  to  meet  the  future 
half-way. 

As  it  happened  the  train  stopped  about  a 
hundred  yards  short  of  Dover  Street,  and 
would  not  move  on.  Seconds  and  minutes 
passed,  and  the  stoppage  became  undeniably 
a  breakdown.  The  tunnels  under  the  earth 
from  Dover  Street  back  to  Hanmiersmith 
were  full  of  stopped  trains  a  few  hundred 
yards  apart,  and  every  train  was  full  of 
serious  people  who  positively  had  to  be  at  a 
certain  place  at  a  certain  time.  Lilian's  mood 
changed ;  the  mood  of  the  car  changed,  and  of 
the  train  and  of  all  the  trains.  No  one  knew 
anything ;  no  one  could  do  anything ;  the  trains 
were  each  a  prison.  The  railway  company  by 
its  officials  maintained  a  masterly  silence  as  to 
the  origin  of  the  vast  inconvenience  and  calam- 
ity. Rumours  were  born  by  spontaneous  gen- 
eration. A  man  within  Lilian's  hearing,  hith- 
erto one  of  God's  quite  minor  achievements, 
was  suddenly  gifted  with  divination  and  an- 
nounced that  the  electricians  at  the  power 
station  in  Lots  Road  had  gone  on  strike  with- 
out notice  and  every  electric  train  in  London 


82  Lill 


an 


had  been  paralyzed.  Half  an  hour  elapsed. 
The  prisoners,  made  desperate  by  the  prospect 
of  the  fate  which  attended  them,  spoke  of  revo- 
lution and  homicide,  well  aware  that  they  were 
just  as  capable  of  these  things  as  a  flock 
of  sheep.  Then,  as  inexplicably  as  it  had 
stopped,  the  train  started. 

Two  minutes  later  Lilian,  with  some  scores 
of  other  girls,  was  running  madly  through 
Dover  Street  in  vain  pursuit  of  time  lost  and 
vanished.  Not  a  soul  had  guessed  the  cause 
of  the  disaster,  which,  according  to  the  eve- 
ning papers,  was  due  to  an  old,  unhappy  man 
who  had  wandered  unobserved  into  the  tunnel 
from  Dover  Street  station  with  the  ambition 
to  discover  for  himself  what  the  next  world 
was  like.    This  ambition  had  been  gratified. 

As  Lilian,  in  a  state  of  nervous  exhaustion, 
flew  on  tired  wings  up  the  ofiice  stairs  she  of 
course  had  to  compose  herself  into  a  semblance 
of  bright,  virginal  freshness  for  the  day's 
work,  conformably  with  the  employer's  theory 
that  until  he  reaches  the  office  the  employee 
has  done  and  suffered  nothing  whatever.  And 


The  Suicide  83 


Miss  Grig  was  crossing  the  ante-room  at  the 
moment  of  Lilian's  entry. 

"You're  twenty  five  minutes  late,  Miss 
Share,"  said  Miss  Grig  coldly.  She  looked 
very  ill. 

"So  sorry,  Miss  Grig,"  Lilian  answered 
with  unprotesting  humility,  and  offered  no  ex- 
planation. 

Useless  to  explain!     Useless  to  assert  in- 
nocence and  victimization!     Excuses  founded 
on  vagaries  of  trains  were  unacceptable  in 
that  office,  as  in  thousands  of  offices.    Employ- 
ers refused  to  take  the  least  interest  in  trains 
or  other  means  of  conveyance.     One  of  the 
girls  in  the  room  called  "the  large  room"  had 
once  told  Lilian  that,   living  at   Ilford,   she 
would  leave  home  on  foggy  mornings  at  six 
o'clock  in  order  to  be  sure  of  a  prompt  ar- 
rival in  Clifford  Street  at  nine  o'clock,  thus 
allowing  three  hours  for  little  more  than  a 
dozen  miles.    But  only  in  the  book  of  dooms- 
day was  this  detail  entered  to  her  credit.  Miss 
Grig,  even  if  she  had  heard  of  it — which  she 
had  not — would  have  dismissed  it  as  of  no  im- 
portance.   Yet  ]Miss  Grig  was  a  just  woman. 


84  Lilian 

"Come  into  my  room,  Miss  Share,  will  you 
please?"  said  Miss  Grig. 

Lilian,  apprehending  she  knew  not  what, 
thought  to  herself  bitterly  that,  lateness  for  a 
delicious  shopping  appointment  or  a  heavenly 
appointment  to  lunch  at  the  Savoy  or  to  motor 
up  the  river — affairs  of  true  importance — 
would  have  been  laughed  off  as  negligible, 
whereas  lateness  at  this  filthy  office  was  equiva- 
lent to  embezzlement.  And  she  resolved  anew, 
and  with  the  most  terrible  determination,  to 
escape  at  no  matter  what  risks  from  the  servi- 
tude and  the  famine  of  sentiment  in  which  she 
existed. 


II 

THE  MALADY 

MISS  GRIG'S  Christian  name  was  Isa- 
bel; it  was  somehow  secret,  and  never 
heard  in  the  office;  and  FeHx,  if  he  ever  em- 
ployed it,  could  only  have  done  so  in  the  sacred 
privacy  of  the  principals'  room.  Like  her 
brother,  Miss  Grig  might  have  been  almost 
any  age,  but  only  the  malice  of  a  prisonful  of 
women  could  have  seriously  asserted  her  to  be 
older  than  Fehx.  Although  by  general  con- 
sent an  authentic  virgin,  she  had  not  the  air  of 
one.  Rather  full  in  figure,  she  was  neither  des- 
iccated nor  stiff,  and  when  she  moved  her  soft 
body  took  on  flowing  curves,  so  that  clever  and 
experienced  observers  could  not  resist  the  in- 
ference, almost  certainly  wrong,  that  in  the 
historic  past  of  Isabel  lay  hidden  some  Sabine 
episode  or  sublime  folly  of  self-surrender.  She 
had  black  hair,  streaked  with  grey,  and  mar- 
vellous, troubled,  smouldering  black  eyes  that 

85 


86  Lilian 

seemed  to  yearn  and  appeal.  And  yet  in  an 
occasional  gesture  and  tone  she  would  become 
masculine. 

She  went  wrong  in  the  matter  of  clothes, 
aspiring  after  elegance  and  missing  it  through 
a  fundamental  lack  of  distinction,  and  also 
through  inability  to  concentrate  her  effects. 
Her  dresses  consisted  of  ten  thousand  details 
held  together  by  no  unity  of  conception.  Thin 
gold  chains  wandered,  apparently  purposeless, 
over  her  rich  form;  they  would  disappear  like 
a  railway  in  a  cutting  and  then  pop  out  un- 
expectedly in  another  part  of  the  lush  rolling 
countryside.  The  contours  of  her  visible  gar- 
ments gave  the  impression  that  the  concealed 
system  of  underskirts,  cache-corsets,  corsets, 
lingerie,  hose  and  suspenders  was  of  the  most 
complicated,  innumerable  and  unprecedented 
variety.  And  indeed  she  was  one  of  those 
women  who,  for  the  performance  of  the  morn- 
ing and  evening  rites,  trebly  secure  themselves 
by  locks  and  bolts  and  bhnds  from  the  slightest 
chance  of  a  chance  of  the  peril  of  the  world's 
gaze. 

The  purchase  of  the  typewriting  business  by 


The  Malady  87 


Felix  had  changed  Miss  Grig's  life  from  top 
to  bottom.  It  had  transformed  her  from  a 
relic  festering  in  sloth  and  frustration  into  the 
eager  devotee  of  a  sane  and  unassailable  cult. 
The  business  was  her  perversity,  her  passion. 
It  was  her  mystic  husband  fecundating  her 
with  vital  juices,  the  spouse  to  whom  she 
joyously  gave  long  nights  of  love.  Apart 
from  the  business,  and  possibly  her  brother, 
she  had  no  real  thoughts.  The  concern  as  it 
existed  in  Lilian's  time  was  her  creation.  She 
would  sacrifice  anything  to  it,  her  own  health 
and  life,  even  the  lives  and  health  of  tender 
girls.  Yes,  and  she  would  sacrifice  her  con- 
science to  it.  She  would  cheat  for  it.  The 
charges  for  typewriting  were  high — for  she 
had  estabhshed  a  tradition  of  the  highest-class 
work  and  rates  to  match — but  this  did  not 
prevent  her  from  seizing  any  excuse  to  inflate 
the  bills.  The  staff  said  that  her  malpractices 
sufficed  every  year  to  pay  the  rent.  And  she 
was  never  more  priestess-like,  more  lofty  and 
grandiose,  than  when  falsifying  an  account. 

Lilian  found  her  seated  alone  in  fluent  dig- 
nity at  the  great  desk. 


88  Lilia 


n 


"Yes,  Miss  Grig?" 

"May  I  enquire?"  asked  Miss  Grig  in  grave 
accents  not  of  reproach  but  of  pain,  "why  you 
did  not  put  in  an  appearance  yesterday,  Miss 
Share?" 

"Well,  madam,"  Lilian  answered  with  sur- 
prise and  gentle  rebuttal,  "I  stayed  here  all 
the  night  before  and  I  was  so  tired  I  slept  all 
day.  I  didn't  wake  up  imtil  it  would  have  been 
too  late  to  come." 

"But  you  knew  I  was  unwell,  and  that  I 
should  count  on  you  upper  girls  to  fill  my 
place.  Or  you  should  have  known.  What  if 
you  were  tired?  You  are  young  and  strong; 
you  could  have  stood  it  easily  enough,  and 
there  was  much  work  to  be  done.  In  a  crisis 
we  don't  think  about  being  tired.  We  just 
keep  on.  And  even  if  you  did  sleep  all  day, 
I  suppose  it  never  occurred  to  you  in  the  eve- 
ning that  someone  would  be  needed  to  take 
charge  during  last  night.  The  least  you  could 
have  done  would  have  been  to  run  up  and  see 
how  things  were.  But  no!  You  didn't  even 
do  that !  Shall  I  tell  you  who  did  take  charge 
last  night?     Miss  Jackson.     She'd  been  on 


The  Malady  89 


duty  the  whole  day  yesterday.  She  stayed  all 
night  till  six  o'clock.  And  she  was  back  again 
at  nine  o'clock  this  morning — ^twenty-five  min- 
utes before  you.  And  when  I  told  her  to  go 
back  home,  she  positively  refused.  She  defied 
me.  That's  what  I  call  the  true  spirit,  my 
dear  Lilian." 

Miss  Grig  ceased;  only  her  lustrous,  re- 
proachful eyes  continued  the  harangue.  She 
had  shown  no  anger.  She  had  appealed  to 
Miss  Share's  best  instincts. 

The  address  "my  dear  Lilian"  caused  mis- 
givings in  the  employee's  bosom.  Lilian  knew 
that  it  was  Felix  and  not  Miss  Grig  who  had 
admitted  her  to  employment,  and  that  Miss 
Grig  had  been  somewhat  opposed  to  the  en- 
gagement. She  also  guessed  that  Miss  Grig 
objected  to  her  good  looks,  and  was  always 
watchful  for  an  occasion  to  illustrate  her 
theory  that  a  girl  might  be  too  good-looking. 
And  the  tone  of  the  words  "my  dear  Lihan" 
had  menace  in  its  appealing,  sad  sweetness. 
Miss  Grig  had  been  known  to  deviate  without 
warning  into  frightful  inclemency,  and  she 


90  Lilian 

always  implacably  got  the  last  ounce  out  of 
her  girls. 

The  culprit  offered  no  defence.  There  was 
no  defence.  Assuredly  she  ought  to  have  run 
up  on  the  previous  evening.  Miss  Grig  had 
spoken  truth — the  notion  of  running  up  had 
simply  not  occurred  to  the  preoccupied  Lilian. 
Nevertheless,  while  saying  naught,  she  kept 
thinking  resentfully:  "Here  I  worked  over 
twenty  hours  on  end  and  this  is  my  reward — 
a  slating!  This  is  my  reward — a  nice  old 
slating!"  With  fallen  face  and  drooping 
lower  lip  she  moved  to  leave.  She  was  ready 
to  cry. 

"And  there's  something  else.  Miss  Share. 
Now  please  don't  cry.  When  Mr.  Grig  came 
up  the  night  before  last  to  tell  you  that  I  was 
unwell,  you  ought  not  to  have  allowed  him  to 
stay.  You  know  that  he  can't  stand  night- 
work.     Men  are  not  like  us  women " 

"But  how  could  I  possibly "  Lilian  in- 
terrupted, quite  forgetting  the  impulse  to  cry. 

"You  should  have  seen  that  he  left  again 
at  once.  It  would  have  been  quite  easy — 
especially  for  a  girl  like  you.     The  result  is 


The  Malady  91 


that  he's  been  a  wreck  ever  since.  It  seems  he 
stayed  till  four  o'clock  and  after.  I  tried  my 
best  to  stop  him  from  coming  at  all;  but  he 
would  come.  .  .  .  Please,  please,  think  over 
what  I've  said.     Thank  you." 

Lilian  felt  all  the  soft,  cruel,  unopposable 
force  of  Miss  Grig's  individuality.  She 
vaguely  and  with  inimical  deference  compre- 
hended the  secret  of  Miss  Grig's  success  in 
business.  Youth  and  beauty  and  charm,  qual- 
ities so  well  appreciated  by  Felix,  so  rich  in 
promise  for  Lilian,  were  absolutely  powerless 
against  the  armour  of  Miss  Grig.  To  Miss 
Grig  LiHan  was  no  better  than  a  cross-eyed, 
flat-bosomed  spinster  of  thirty-nine.  Not  a 
bit  better!  Perhaps  worse!  Miss  Grig  actu- 
ally had  the  assurance  to  preach  to  Lilian  the 
nauseous  and  unnatural  doctrine  that  men  are 
by  right  entitled  to  the  protection  and  self- 
sacrifice  of  women. 

Moreover  Miss  Grig,  without  knowing  it, 
had  convinced  Lilian  that  her  ideas  concerning 
Lord  Mackworth  were  the  hallucinations  of  an 
excessively  silly  and  despicable  kind  of  brain. 
And  even  if  Lord  Mackworth  did  playfully 


92  Lilian 

attempt  to  continue  the  divertisement  begun 
in  the  romantic  night,  Miss  Grig,  by  the  sure- 
ness  of  her  perceptions  and  the  bland  piti- 
lessness  of  her  tactics,  would  undoubtedly 
counter  him  once  and  for  all.  The  two  women 
so  acutely  contrasted  in  age,  form  and  tem- 
perament, had  this  in  common — ^that  they 
secretly  and  unwillingly  respected  each  other. 
But  the  younger  was  at  present  no  match  at 
all  for  the  elder. 

And  yet  Lilian  was  not  cast  down — neither 
by  the  realization  of  her  awful  silliness  and 
of  her  lack  of  the  sense  of  responsibility,  nor 
by  her  powerlessness,  nor  by  the  awaking  from 
the  dream  of  Lord  Mackworth.  On  the  con- 
trary, she  was  quite  uplifted  and  agreeably 
excited,  and  her  brain  was  working  on  lines  of 
which  Miss  Grig  had  absolutely  no  notion 
whatever.  Miss  Grig,  obviously  truthful,  had 
said  that  she  had  tried  to  prevent  her  brother 
from  coming  to  the  office  on  the  last  night  but 
one.  Miss  Grig  had  been  ready  enough  to  let 
Lilian  stay  till  morning  without  a  word.  But 
Felix  had  told  Lilian  that  he  had  come  to  the 


The  Malady  93 


office  to  warn  her  at  his  sister's  urgent  request. 
Why  had  Fehx  Hed? 

The  answer  clearly  was  that  he  had  had  a 
fancy  to  chat  with  Lilian  alone,  without 
Lilian's  suspecting  his  fancy.  And  in  fact  he 
had  chatted  with  Lilian  alone  and  to  some 
purpose.  .  .  .  The  answer  was  that  Felix  was 
genuinely  interested  in  Lilian.  Further,  Miss 
Grig  suspected  this  interest.  If  Gertie  Jack- 
son had  happened  to  be  on  duty  that  evening, 
would  Miss  Grig  have  opposed  her  brother's 
coming?  She  would  not.  Finally,  Miss  Grig 
herself  had  confessed,  perhaps  unthinkingly, 
that  Lilian  was  not  without  influential  at- 
tributes. The  phrase  "especially  for  a  girl  like 
you"  shone  in  the  girl's  mind. 

She  went  into  the  small  room,  which  was 
at  the  moment  empty.  The  cover  had  not 
been  removed  from  her  own  machine,  but  the 
other  two  machines  were  open,  and  Millicent's 
was  ammunitioned  with  paper.  Lilian  could 
hear  Milly,  who  shared  the  small  room  with 
herself  and  Gertie  Jackson,  dividing  work  and 
giving  instructions  in  an  important,  curt  voice 
to  the  mere  rabble  of  girls  in  the  large  room. 


94  Lilian 

To  Lilian's  practised  sense  there  was  through- 
out the  office  an  atmosphere  of  nervous  dis- 
turbance and  unease.  Mr.  Grig  being  absent^ 
she  felt  sure  that  before  the  end  of  the  day — 
probably  just  about  tea-time — ^the  electrical 
fluid  would  concentrate  itself  in  one  spot  and 
then  explode  in  a  tense,  violent,  bitter  and  yet 
only  murmured  scene  between  two  of  the  girls 
in  the  large  room — ^unless  of  course  she  her- 
self and  Millicent  happened  to  get  across  one 
another. 

She  took  off  her  things  and  put  them  in  the 
clothes  cupboard.  Gertie's  hat  and  jacket 
were  absent,  which  meant  that  Gertie  was 
already  out  somewhere  on  the  firm's  business. 
Millicent's  precious  boa  was  present  instead 
of  her  thick  scarf,  which  meant  that  Millicent 
was  to  meet  at  night  the  insufferably  pert 
young  man  from  the  new  branch  of  Lloyds 
Bank  in  Bond  Street.  The  pert  young  man 
would  dine  Millicent  at  the  Popular  Cafe  in 
Piccadilly,  where  for  as  little  as  five  shillings 
two  persons  might  have  a  small  table  to  them- 
selves, the  aphrodisiac  of  music,  and  the  in- 
genuous illusion  of  seeing  Life  with  a  capital. 


The  Malady  95 


Now  Lilian  never  connected  Life  with  any- 
thing less  than  the  Savoy,  the  Carlton,  and 
the  Ritz.  LiHan  had  been  born  with  a  sure 
instinct  in  these  high  matters.  She  looked  at 
the  contents  of  the  clothes  cupboard  and  de- 
spised them,  furiously — and  in  particular 
Millicent's  boa;  anybody  could  see  what  that 
was;  it  would  not  deceive  even  a  bank  clerk. 
Not  that  Lilian  possessed  any  article  of  attire 
to  surpass  the  boa  in  intrinsic  worth!  She 
did  not.  But  she  felt  no  envy  in  regard  to 
the  boa,  and  indeed  never  envied  any  girl  the 
tepth-rate — no,  nor  the  second-rate!  Her  de- 
sire was  for  the  best  or  nothing;  she  could  not 
compromise.  The  neighbouring  shop -windows 
had  effectively  educated  her  because  she  was 
capable  of  self-education.  IMillicent  and  Ger- 
tie actually  preferred  the  inferior  displays  of 
Oxford  Street. 

She  gazed  in  froward  insolence  at  the  work 
room  full  of  stitching  girls  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  street.  They  were  toiling  as  though 
they  had  been  toiling  for  hours.  Customers 
had  not  yet  begun  to  be  shown  into  the  elegant 
apartment  on  the  floor  below  the  workrooms. 


96  Lilian 

Customers  were  probably  still  sipping  tea  in 
bed  with  a  maid  to  help  them,  and  some  of 
them  had  certainly  never  been  in  a  Tube  in 
their  lives.  Yet  the  workgirls,  seen  broadly 
across  the  street,  were  on  the  average  younger, 
prettier,  daintier,  and  more  graceful  than  the 
customers.     Why  then  .  .  .   ?     Etc. 

The  upper  floors  of  all  the  surrounding 
streets  were  studded  with  such  nests  of  heads 
bent  over  needles.  There  were  scores  and 
scores  of  those  crowded  rooms,  excruciat- 
ingly feminine.  "Modes  et  Robes" — a  charm- 
ing vocation!  You  were  always  seeing  and 
touching  lovely  stuffs,  laces,  feathers,  and 
confections  of  stuffs.  A  far  more  attractive 
occupation  than  typewriting,  Lilian  thought. 
Sometimes  she  had  dreamt  of  a  change,  but 
not  seriously.  To  work  on  other  women's 
attire,  knowing  that  she  could  never  rise  to 
it  herself,  would  have  broken  her  heart. 

Quickly  she  turned  away  from  the  window, 
still  uplifted — passionately  determined  that 
one  day  she  would  enter  the  most  renowned 
and  exclusive  arcana  in  Hanover  Square,  and 
not  as  an  employee  either !    Then,  on  that  day, 


The  Malady  97 


would  she  please  with  the  virtuosity  of  a  great 
pianist  playing  the  piano,  then  would  she 
exert  charm,  then  would  she  be  angelic  and 
divine;  and  when  she  departed  there  should 
be  a  murmur  of  conversation.  She  smiled  her 
best  in  anticipation;  her  fingers  ran  smooth- 
ingly  over  her  blouse. 

Gertie  Jackson  came  in  and  transformed 
the  rehearsed  smile  into  an  expression  of  dis- 
satisfaction and  hostility  far  from  divine;  the 
fingers  dropped  as  it  were  guiltily;  and  Lilian 
remembered  all  her  grievances  and  her  trag- 
edy. Gertie  Jackson's  bright,  pleasant,  clear, 
drawn  face  showed  some  traces  of  fatigue,  but 
no  sign  at  all  of  being  a  martyr  to  the  indus- 
trial system  or  to  the  despotism  of  individual 
employers.  She  was  a  tall,  well-made  girl  of 
twenty-eight,  and  she  held  herself  rather 
nicely.  She  was  kindly,  cheerful,  and  of  an 
agreeable  temper — as  placid  as  a  bowl  of 
milk.  She  loved  her  work,  regarding  it  as  of  real 
importance,  and  she  seemed  to  be  entirely  with- 
out ambition.  Apparently  she  would  be  quite 
happy  to  go  on  altruistically  typing  for  ever 
and  ever,  and  to  be  cast  into  a  typist's  grave. 


98  Lilian 

Lilian's  attitude  towards  her  senior  col- 
league was  in  various  respects  critical.  In  the 
first  place  the  poor  thing  did  not  realise  that 
she  was  growing  old — already  approaching 
the  precipice  of  thirty!  In  the  second  place, 
though  possessed  of  a  good  figure  and  face, 
she  did  nothing  with  these  great  gifts.  She 
had  no  desire  to  be  agreeable;  she  was  agree- 
able unconsciously,  as  a  bird  sings;  there  was 
no  merit  in  it.  She  had  no  coquetry,  and  not 
the  slightest  inclination  for  chic.  Her  clothes 
were  "good"  and  bought  in  Upper  Street, 
Islington;  her  excellent  boots  gave  her  away. 
She  was  not  uninterested  in  men;  but  she  did 
not  talk  about  them,  she  twittered  about  them. 
To  Lilian  she  had  the  soul  of  an  infant.  And 
she  was  too  pure,  too  ingenuous,  too  kind,  too 
conscientious;  her  nature  lacked  something 
fundamental,  and  Lilian  felt  but  could  not 
describe  what  it  was — save  by  saying  that  she 
had  no  kick  in  either  her  body  or  her  soul.  In 
the  third  place,  there  was  that  terrible  absence 
of  ambition.  Lilian  could  not  understand 
contentment,  and  Gertie's  contentment  exas- 
perated her.     She  admitted  that  Gertie  was 


The  Malady  99 


faultless,  and  yet  she  tremendously  despised 
the  paragon,  occasionally  going  so  far  as  to 
think  of  her  as  a  cat. 

And  now  Gertie  straightened  herself,  stuck 
her  chest  out  bravely,  according  to  habit,  and 
smiled  a  most  friendly  gi-eeting.  Behind  the 
smile  lay  concealed  no  resentment  against 
Lilian  for  having  failed  to  appear  on  the  pre- 
vious evening,  and  no  moral  superiority  as  a 
first-class  devotee  of  duty.  What  lay  behind 
it,  and  not  wholly  concealed,  was  a  grave  sense 
of  responsibility  for  the  welfare  of  the  busi- 
ness in  circumstances  difficult  and  complex. 

"Have  you  seen  Miss  Grig?"  she  asked 
solemnly. 

"Yes,"  said  Lihan,  with  a  touch  of  careless 
defiance;  she  supposed  Gertie  to  be  delicately 
announcing  that  Miss  G.  had  been  lying  in 
wait  for  her,  Lilian. 

"Doesn't  she  look  simply  frightfully  ill?" 

"She  does,"  admitted  Lilian,  who  in  her 
egotism  had  quite  forgotten  her  first  impres- 
sion that  morning  of  ^liss  G.'s  face.  "What 
is  it?" 

Gertie  mentioned  the  dreadful  name  of  one 


100  Lilian 

of  those  hidden  though  not  shameful  maladies 
which  afflict  only  women — but  the  majority 
of  women.  The  crude  words  sounded  oddly 
on  Gertie's  prim  lips.  Lilian  was  duly  im- 
pressed; she  was  as  if  intimidated.  At  inter- 
vals the  rumour  of  a  victim  of  that  class  of 
diseases  runs  whisperingly  through  assem- 
blages of  women,  who  on  the  entrance  of  a 
male  hastily  change  the  subject  of  talk  and 
become  falsely  bright.  Yet  every  male  in  the 
circle  of  acquaintances  will  catch  the  rumour 
almost  instantly,  because  some  wife  runs  to 
inform  her  husband,  and  the  husband  informs 
all  his  friends. 

"Who  told  you?"  Lilian  demanded. 

"Oh!  I've  known  about  it  for  a  long  time," 
said  Gertie  without  pride.  "I  told  Milly  just 
now,  before  I  went  out.  Everybody  will  know 
soon."  Lilian  felt  a  pang  of  jealousy.  "It 
means  a  terrible  operation,"  Gertie  added. 

"But  she  oughtn't  to  be  here!"  Lilian  ex- 
claimed. 

"No!"  Gertie  agreed  with  a  surprising 
sternness  that  somewhat  altered  Lilian's  esti- 
mate of  her.     "No!     And  she  isn't  going  to 


The  Malady  lOi 


be  here  either!  Not  if  I  know  it!  I  shall  see 
that  she  gets  back  home  at  lunch-time.  She's 
quarrelled  already  with  Mr.  Grig  this  morn- 
ing about  her  coming  up." 

"Do  you  mean  at  home  they  quarrelled?" 

*'Yes.  He  got  so  angry  that  he  said  if  she 
came  he  wouldn't.  He  was  quite  right  to  be 
angry  of  course.    But  she  came  all  the  same." 

"Miss  G.  must  have  told  Gertie  all  that 
herself,"  Lilian  reflected.  "She'd  never  be  as 
confidential  with  me.  She'd  never  tell  me 
anything!"  And  she  had  a  queer  feeling  of 
inferiority. 

"We  must  do  all  we  can  to  help  things," 
said  Gertie. 

"Of  course!"  agreed  Lilian,  suddenly  soft- 
ened, overcome  by  a  rush  of  sympathy  and  a 
strong  impulse  to  behave  nobly,  beautifully, 
forgivingly  towards  Miss  G. 

Nevertheless,  though  it  was  Gertie's  atti- 
tude that  had  helped  to  inspire  her,  she  still 
rather  disdained  the  virtuous  senior.  Lilian 
appreciated  profoundly — perhaps  without  be- 
ing able  to  put  her  feehng  into  words — -the 
heroic  madness  of  Miss  G.  in  defying  common- 


102  Lilian 

sense  and  her  brother  for  the  sake  of  the  be- 
loved business.  But  Gertie  saw  in  Miss  G.'s 
act  nothing  but  a  piece  of  naughty  and  sick 
foolishness.  To  Lilian  Miss  G.  in  her  super- 
ficial yearning  softness  became  almost  a  ter- 
rible figure,  a  figure  to  be  regarded  with  awe, 
and  to  serve  as  an  exemplar.  But  in  contem- 
plating Miss  G.  Lilian  uneasily  realized  her 
own  precariousness.  Miss  G.  was  old  and 
plain  (save  that  her  eyes  had  beauty),  and  yet 
was  fulfilling  her  great  passion  and  was  impos- 
ing herself  on  her  environment.  Miss  G.  was 
doing.  Lilian  could  only  he;  she  would  al- 
ways remain  at  the  mercy  of  someone,  and  the 
success  which  she  desired  could  last  probably 
no  longer  than  her  youth  and  beauty.  The 
transience  of  the  gifts  upon  which  she  must 
depend  frightened  her — but  at  the  same  time 
intensified  anew  her  resolves.  She  had  not  a 
moment  to  lose.  And  Gertie,  standing  there 
close  to  her,  sweet  and  reliable  and  good,  in 
the  dull  cage,  amid  the  daily  circumstances 
of  their  common  slavery,  would  have  under- 
stood nothing  of  Lilian's  obscure  emotion. 


Ill 

SHUT 

THE  two  girls  had  not  settled  to  work 
when  the  door  of  the  small  room  was 
pushed  cautiously  open  and  Mr.  Grig  came  in 
— as  it  were  by  stealth.  Milly,  prolonging  her 
sweet  hour  of  authority  in  the  large  room,  had 
not  yet  returned  to  her  mates.  By  a  glance  and 
a  gesture  Mr.  Grig  prevented  the  girls  from 
any  exclamation  of  surprise.  Evidently  he 
was  secreting  himself  from  his  sister,  and  he 
must  have  entered  the  office  without  a  sound. 
He  looked  older,  worn,  worried,  captious — as 
though  he  needed  balm  and  solace,  and  treat- 
ment at  once  firm  and  infinitely  soft.  Lilian, 
who  a  few  minutes  earlier  liad  been  recalcitrant 
to  Miss  Grig's  theory  that  women  must  pro- 
tect men,  now  felt  a  desire  to  protect  Mr. 
Grig,  to  save  him  exquisitely  from  anxieties 
unsuited  to  his  temperament. 

He  shut  the  door,  and  in  the  intimacy  of  the 

103 


104  Lilian 

room  faced  the  two  girls,  one  so  devoted,  the 
other  perhaps  equally  devoted  but  v^^hose  de- 
votion was  outshone  by  her  brilliant  beauty. 
For  him  both  typists  were  very  young,  but 
they  were  both  women,  familiar  beings  whom 
the  crisis  had  transformed  from  typists  into 
angels  of  succour ;  and  he  had  ceased  to  be  an 
employer  and  become  a  man  who  demanded 
the  aid  of  women  and  knew  how  to  rend  their 
hearts. 

"Is  she  in  there?"  he  snapped,  with  a  move- 
ment of  the  head  towards  the  principals'  room. 

'.'Yes,"  breathed  Lilian.  "Yes,"  said  Ger- 
tie. "Oh!  Mr.  Grig,  she  ought  never  to  have 
come  out  in  her  state!" 

"Well,  God  damn  it,  of  course  she  ought- 
n't!" retorted  Mr.  Grig.  His  language,  un- 
precedented in  that  room,  ought  to  have 
shocked  the  respectable  girls,  but  did  not  in 
the  slightest  degree.  To  judge  from  their 
demeanour  they  might  have  been  living  all 
their  lives  in  an  environment  of  blasphemous 
profanity.  "Didn't  I  do  everything  I  could 
to  keep  her  at  home?" 


Shut  105 

"Oh!  I  know  you  did!"  Gertie  agreed 
sympathetically.     "She  told  me." 

"I  made  a  hades  of  a  row  with  her  about  it 
in  the  hope  of  keeping  her  in  the  house.  But 
it  was  no  use.  I  swore  I  wouldn't  move  until 
she  returned.  But  of  course  I've  got  to  do 
something.  Look  here,  one  of  you  must  go  to 
her  and  tell  her  I'm  waiting  in  a  taxi  down- 
stairs to  take  her  home,  and  that  I  shall  stick 
in  it  till  she  gives  way,  even  if  I'm  there  all 
day.  That  ought  to  shift  her.  Tell  her  I've 
arranged  for  the  doctor  to  be  at  the  house  at 
a  quarter  to  eleven.  Youd  better  go  and  do 
it,  Miss  Jackson.  She's  more  likely  to  listen 
to  you." 

"Yes,  do,  Gertie!  You  go,"  Lilian  seconded 
the  instruction.  Then:  "What's  the  matter, 
Gertie?    What  on  earth's  the  matter?" 

The  paragon  had  suddenly  blanched  and  she 
seemed  to  shiver:  first  sign  of  acute  emotion 
that  Lilian  had  ever  observed  in  the  placid 
creature. 

"It's   nothing.     I'm  only It's   really 

nothing." 

And  Gertie,  who  had  not  taken  off  her 


io6  Lilian 

street-things,  rose  resolutely  from  her  chair. 
She,  who  a  little  earlier  had  seemed  quite  ener- 
getic, and  fairly  fresh  after  her  night's  work, 
now  looked  genuinely  ill. 

"You  go  along,"  Mr.  Grig  urged  her, 
ruthlessly  ignoring  the  symptoms  which  had 
startled  Lilian.  "And  mind  how  you  do  it, 
there's  a  good  creature.  I'll  get  downstairs 
first."     And  he  stepped  out  of  the  room. 

The  door  opening  showed  tall,  thin  Millicent 
returning  to  her  own  work.  Mr.  Grig  pushed 
past  her  on  tiptoe.  As  soon  as  Gertie  had 
disappeared  on  her  mission  into  the  principals' 
room,  Lilian  told  Millicent,  not  without  an  air 
of  superiority,  as  of  an  Under-Secretary  of 
State  to  a  common  member  of  Parliament, 
what  was  occurring.  Millicent,  who  loved  "in- 
cidents," bit  her  lips  in  a  kind  of  cruel  pleasure. 
(She  had  a  long,  straight,  absolutely  regular 
nose,  and  was  born  to  accomplish  the  domestic 
infelicity  of  some  male  clerk.)  She  made  an 
excuse  to  revisit  the  large  room  in  order  to 
spread  the  thrilling  news. 

Lilian  stood  just  behind  the  still  open  door 
of  the    small   room.     A   long   time   elapsed. 


Shut  107 

Then  the  door  of  the  principals'  room  opened, 
and  Lihan,  discreetly  peeping,  saw  the  backs 
of  Miss  Grig  and  Gertie  Jackson.  They 
seemed  to  be  supporting  each  other  in  their 
progress  towards  the  outer  door.  She  won- 
dered what  the  expressions  on  their  faces 
might  be;  she  had  no  clue  to  the  tenor  of  the 
scene  which  had  ended  in  Gertie's  success,  for 
neither  of  the  pair  spoke  a  word.  How  had 
Gertie  managed  to  beat  the  old  fanatic? 

After  a  little  pause  she  went  to  the  window 
and  opened  it  and  looked  out  at  the  pavement 
below.  The  taxi  was  there.  Two  fore- 
shortened figures  emerged  from  the  building. 
Mr.  Grig  emerged  from  the  taxi.  Miss  Grig 
was  induced  into  the  vehicle,  and  to  Lilian's 
astonishment  Gertie  followed  her.  Mr.  Grig 
entered  last.  As  the  taxi  swerved  away,  a 
little  outcry  of  voices  drew  Lilian's  attention 
to  the  fact  that  both  windows  of  the  large 
room  were  open  and  full  of  clusters  of  heads. 
The  entire  office,  thanks  to  that  lath,  Millicent, 
was  disorganized.  Lilian  whipped  in  her  own 
head  like  lightning. 

At  three  o'clock  she  was  summoned  to  thje 


io8  Lilian 

telephone.  Mr.  Grig  was  speaking  from  a 
call-office : 

"Miss  Jackson's  got  influenza,  the  doctor 
says,"  he  announced  grimly.  "So  she  has  to 
stay  here.  A  nice  handful  for  me.  You'd 
better  carry  on.  I'll  try  to  come  up  later. 
Miss  Grig  said  something  about  some  accounts 
— I  don't  know." 

Lilian,  quite  unable  to  check  a  feeling  of 
intense,  excited  happiness,  replied  with  sooth- 
ing, eager  sympathy  and  allegiance,  and  went 
with  dignity  into  the  principals'  room,  now  for 
the  moment  lawfully  at  her  mercy.  The  ac- 
counts of  the  establishment  were  always  done 
by  Miss  Grig,  and  there  was  evidence  on  the 
desk  that  she  had  been  obdurately  at  work  on 
bills  when  Gertie  Jackson  enticed  her  away. 
In  the  evening  Lilian,  after  a  day's  urgent  toil 
at  her  machine,  was  sitting  in  Miss  Grig's  chair 
in  the  principals'  room,  at  grips  with  the  day- 
book, the  night-book,  the  ledger  and  some  bill- 
forms.  Although  experiencing  some  of  the 
sensations  of  a  traveller  lost  in  a  forest  (of 
which  the  trees  were  numerals),  she  was  satu- 
rated with  bliss.     She  had  dismissed  the  rest 


Shut  109 

of  the  staff  at  the  usual  hour,  firmly  refusing 
to  let  anybody  remain  with  her.  Almost  as  a 
favour  Millicent  had  been  permitted  to  pur- 
chase a  night's  food  for  her. 

Just  as  the  clock  of  St.  George's  struck 
eight,  it  occurred  to  her  that  to  allow  herself 
to  be  found  by  Mr.  Grig  in  the  occupation  of 
Miss  Grig's  place  might  amount  to  a  grave 
failure  in  tact;  and  hastily — for  he  might  ar- 
rive at  any  moment — she  removed  all  the  es- 
sential paraphernalia  to  the  small  room.  She 
had  heard  nothing  further  from  Mr.  Grig,  who 
moreover  had  not  definitely  promised  to  come, 
but  she  was  positive  that  he  would  come. 
However  late  the  hour  might  be,  he  would 
come.  She  would  hear  the  outer  door  open; 
she  would  hear  his  steps;  she  would  see  him; 
and  he  would  see  her,  faithfully  labouring  all 
alone  for  him,  and  eager  to  take  a  whole  night- 
watch  for  the  second  time  in  a  week.  For  this 
hour  she  had  made  a  special  toilette,  with  much 
attention  to  her  magnificent  hair.  She  looked 
spick-and-span  and  enchanting. 

Nor  was   she  mistaken.     Hardly  had  she 
arranged  matters  in  her  own  room  when  the 


no  Lilian 

outer  door  did  open,  and  she  did  hear  his  steps. 
The  divine  moment  had  arrived.  He  appeared 
in  the  doorway  of  the  room.  Rather  to  her 
regi'et  he  was  not  in  evening  dress.  (But  how 
could  he  be  ?)  Still,  he  had  a  marvellous  charm 
and  his  expression  was  less  worried.  He  was 
almost  too  good  to  be  true.  She  greeted  him 
with  a  smile  that  combined  sorrow  and  sym- 
pathy and  welcome,  fidelity  and  womanly  com- 
prehension, the  expert  assistant  and  the  beau- 
tiful young  Eve.  She  was  so  discomposed  by 
the  happiness  of  realization  that  at  first  she 
scarcely  knew  what  either  of  them  was  saying, 
and  then  she  seemed  to  come  to  herself  and  she 
caught  Mr.  Grig's  voice  clearly  in  the  middle 
of  a  sentence: 

".  .  .  with  a  temperature  of  104.  The  doc- 
tor said  it  would  be  madness  to  send  her  to 
Islington.  This  sort  of  influenza  takes  you 
like  this,  it  appears.  I  shall  have  it  myself 
next.  .  .  .  What  are  you  supposed  to  be 
doing?     Bills,  eh?" 

He  looked  hard  at  her,  and  her  eyes  dropped 
before  his  experienced  masculine  gaze.  She 
liked  him  to  be  wrinkled  and  grey,  to  be  thirty 


Shut  III 

years  older  than  herself,  to  be  perhaps  even 
depraved.  She  liked  to  contrast  her  innocent 
freshness  with  his  worn  maturity.  She  liked 
it  that  he  had  not  shown  the  slightest  apprecia- 
tion of  her  loyalty.  He  spoke  only  vaguely 
of  Miss  Grig's  condition;  it  was  not  a  topic 
meet  for  discussion  between  them,  and  with  a 
few  murmured  monosyllables  she  let  it  drop. 

"I  do  hope  you  aren't  thinking  of  staying, 
Mr.  Grig,"  she  said  next.  "I  shall  be  perfectly 
all  right  by  myself,  and  the  bills  will  occupy 
me  till  something  comes  in." 

"I'm  not  going  to  stay.  Neither  are  you," 
replied  Mr.  Grig  curtly.  "We'll  shut  the 
place  up." 

Her  face  fell. 

"But " 

"We'll  shut  up  for  to-night." 

"But  we're  supposed  to  be  always  open! 
Supposing  some  work  does  come  in!  It  al- 
ways does " 

"No  doubt.  But  we're  going  to  shut  up  the 
place — at  once."  There  was  fatigue  in  his 
voice. 

Tears  came  into  Lilian's  eyes.     She  had  ex- 


112  Lilian 

pected  him,  in  answer  to  her  appeal  to  him 
to  depart,  to  insist  on  staying  with  her.  She 
had  been  waiting  for  heaven  to  unfold.  And 
now  he  had  decided  to  break  the  sacred  tradi- 
tion and  close  the  office.  She  could  not  master 
her  tears. 

"Don't  worry,"  he  said  in  tones  suddenly 
charged  with  tenderness  and  sympathetic 
understanding.  "It  can't  be  helped.  I  know 
just  how  you  feel,  and  don't  you  imagine  I 
don't.  You've  been  splendid.  But  I  had  to 
promise  Isabel  I'd  shut  the  office  to-night. 
She's  in  a  very  bad  state  and  I  did  it  to  soothe 
her.  You  know  she  hates  me  to  be  here  at 
nights — thinks  I'm  not  strong  enough  for  it." 

"That's  not  her  reason  to-night,"  said  Lilian 
to  herself.  "I  know  her  reason  to-night  well 
enough!" 

But  she  gave  Mr.  Grig  a  look  grateful  for 
his  exquisite  compassion,  wliich  had  raised  him 
in  her  sight  to  primacy  among  men. 

Obediently  she  let  herself  be  dismissed  first, 
leaving  him  behind,  but  in  the  street  she  looked 
up  at  her  window.  The  words  "Open  day  and 
night"  on  the  blind  were  no  longer  silhouetted 


Shut  113 

against  a  light  within.  The  tradition  was 
broken.  On  the  way  to  the  Dover  Street  Tube 
she  did  not  once  glance  behind  her  to  see  if  he 
was  following. 


IV 

THE  VIZIER 

LATE  in  the  afternoon  of  the  following 
day  Mr.  Grig  put  his  head  inside  the 
small  room. 

"Just  come  here,  Miss  Share,"  he  began, 
and  then,  seeing  that  Millicent  was  not  at  her 
desk,  he  appeared  to  decide  that  he  might  as 
well  speak  with  Lilian  where  she  was. 

He  had  been  away  from  the  office  most  of 
the  day,  and  even  during  his  presences  had 
seemingly  taken  no  part  in  its  conduct.  Much 
work  had  been  received,  some  of  it  urgent,  and 
Lilian,  typing  at  her  best  speed,  had  the  air  of 
stopping  with  reluctance  to  listen  to  whatever 
the  useless  and  wandering  man  might  have  to 
say.     He  merely  said: 

"We  shall  close  to-night,  like  last  night." 

"Oh,  but  Mr.  Grig,"  Lilian  protested — and 
there  was  no  sign  of  a  tear  this  time — "We 
can't  possibly  keep  on  closing.    We  had  one 

114 


The  Vizier  115 


complaint  this  morning  about  being  closed  last 
night.  I  didn't  tell  you  because  I  didn't  want 
to  worry  you." 

"Now  listen  to  me,"  Mr.  Grig  protested  in 
his  turn,  petulantly.  "Nothing  worries  me 
more  than  the  idea  that  people  are  keeping 
things  from  me  in  order  that  I  shan't  be  wor- 
ried. My  sister  was  always  doing  that;  she 
was  incurable,  but  I'm  not  going  to  have  it 
from  anyone  else.  If  you  hide  things  why  are 
you  silly  enough  to  let  out  afterwards  that  you 
were  hiding"  them  and  why  you  were  hiding 
them?     That's  what  I  can't  understand." 

"Sorry,  Mr.  Grig,"  Lilian  apologized  briefly 
and  with  sham  humility,  humouring  the  male 
in  such  a  manner  that  he  must  know  he  was 
being  humoured. 

His  petulancy  charmed  her.  It  gave  him 
youth,  and  gave  her  age  and  wisdom.  He  had 
good  excuse  for  it — Miss  Grig  had  been  moved 
into  a  nursing  home  preparatory  to  an  opera- 
tion, and  Gertie  was  stated  to  be  very  ill  in 
his  house — and  she  enjoyed  excusing  him.  It 
was  implicit  in  every  tone  of  his  voice  that 


Ii6  Lilian 

they  were  now  definitely  not  on  terms  of 
employer  and  employee. 

"That's  all  right !  That's  all  right!"  he  said, 
mollified  by  her  discreet  smile.  "But  close  at 
six.    I'm  off." 

"I  really  don't  think  we  ought  to  close," 
she  insisted,  with  firmness  in  her  voice  followed 
by  persuasion  in  her  features,  and  she  brushed 
"  back  her  hair  with  a  gesture  of  girlishness  that 
could  not  be  ineffective.  He  hesitated,  frown- 
ing. She  went  on:  "If  it  gets  about  that  we're 
closing  night  after  night,  we're  bound  to  lose 
a  lot  of  customers.  I  can  perfectly  well  stay 
here." 

"Yes!    And  be  no  use  at  all  to-morrow!" 

"I  should  be  here  to-morrow  just  the  same. 
If  other  girls  can  do  it  why  can't  I?"  (A 
touch  of  harshness  in  the  question.)  "Oh, 
Milly!"  she  exclaimed,  neglecting  to  call  Milly 
Miss  Merrislate,  according  to  the  custom  by 
which  in  talking  to  the  principals  everybody 
referred  to  everybody  else  as  "Miss."  "Oh, 
Milly!" — Millicent  appeared  behind  Mr.  Grig 
at  the  door  and  he  nervously  made  way  for 
her — "Here's  Mr.  Grig  wants  to  close  again 


The  Vizier  1 17 


to-night!  I'm  sure  we  really  oughtn't  to.  I've 
told  Mr.  Grig  I'll  stay — and  be  here  to-morrow 
too.     Don't  you  agree  we  mustn't  close?" 

Millicent  was  flattered  by  the  frank  appeal 
as  an  equal  from  one  whom  she  was  already 
with  annoyance  beginning  to  regard  as  a 
superior.  From  timidity  in  Mr.  Grig's  pres- 
ence she  looked  down  her  too  straight  nose, 
but  she  nodded  affirmatively  her  narrow  head, 
and  as  soon  as  she  had  recovered  from  the 
disturbing  novelty  of  deliberately  opposing 
the  policy  of  an  employer  she  said  to  Lilian: 

"I'll  stay  with  you  if  you  like.  There's 
plenty  to  do,  goodness  knows!" 

"You  are  a  dear!"  Lilian  exclaimed,  just  as 
if  they  had  been  alone  together  in  the  room. 

"Oh,  well,  have  it  as  you  like!"  Mr.  Grig 
rasped,  and  left,  defeated. 

"Is  he  vexed?"  Milly  demanded  after  he  had 
gone. 

"Of  course  not!  He's  very  pleased,  really. 
But  he  has  to  save  his  face." 

Milly  gave  Lilian  a  scarcely  conscious 
glance  of  admiration,  as  a  woman  better  versed 
than  herself  in  the  mysteries  of  men,  and  also 


Ii8  Lilh 


tan 


as  a  woman  of  unsuspected  courage.  And  she 
behaved  like  an  angel  through  the  whole  in- 
dustrious night — so  much  so  that  Lilian  was 
nearly  ready  to  admit  to  an  uncharitable  pre- 
mature mis  judgment  of  the  girl. 

"And  now  what  are  you  going  to  do  about 
keeping  open?"  inquired  Mr.  Grig,  with  a 
bland,  grim  triumph  the  next  afternoon  to 
the  exhausted  Lilian  and  the  exhausted  Milli- 
cent.  "I  thought  I'd  let  you  have  your  own 
way  last  night.  But  you  can't  see  any  further 
than  your  noses,  either  of  you.  You're  both 
dead." 

"I  can  easily  stay  up  another  night,"  said 
Lilian  desperately,  but  Millicent  said  nothing. 

"No  doubt!"  Mr.  Grig  sneered.  "You  look 
as  if  you  could !  And  supposing  you  do,  what 
about  to-morrow  night?  The  whole  office  is 
upset,  and  of  course  people  must  go  and  choose 
just  this  time  to  choke  us  with  work!" 

"Well,  anyhow  we  can't  close''  Lilian 
stoutly  insisted. 

"No!"  Mr.  Grig  unexpectedly  agreed. 
"Miss  Merrislate,  vou  know  most  about  the 
large  room.    You'd  better  pick  two  of  'em  out 


The  Vizier  119 


of  there,  and  tell  'em  they  must  stay  and  do 
the  best  they  can  by  themselves.  But  that 
won't  carry  us  through.  I  certainly  shan't  sit 
up,  and  I  won't  have  you  two  sitting  up  every 
second  night  in  turn.  There's  only  one  thing 
to  do.  I  must  engage  two  new  typists  at  once 
— that's  clear.  We  may  as  well  face  the  situa- 
tion.   Where  do  we  get  'em  from?" 

But  neither  Lilian  nor  Milly  knew  just  how 
Miss  Grig  was  in  the  habit  of  finding  recruits 
to  the  staff.  Each  of  them  had  been  taken  on 
through  private  connections.  Gertie  Jackson 
would  probably  have  known  how  to  proceed, 
but  Gertie  was  down  with  influenza. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I  shall  do,"  said  Mr.  Grig 
at  last.  "I'll  get  an  advertisement  into  to- 
morrow's Daily  Chromcle.  That  ought  to  do 
the  trick.  This  affair's  got  to  be  handled 
quickly.  When  the  applicants  come  you'd 
better  deal  with  'em,  Miss  Share — in  my  room. 
I  shan't  be  here  to-morrow." 

He  spoke  scornfully,  and  would  not  listen 
to  offers  of  help  in  the  matter  of  the  advertise- 
ment. He  would  see  to  it  himself,  and  wanted 
no  assistance;  indeed  objected  to  assistance  as 


120  Lilian 

being  merely  troublesome.  The  next  day  was 
the  day  of  Miss  Grig's  operation,  and  the 
apprehension  of  it  maddened  this  affectionate 
and  cantankerous  brother.  Millicent  left  the 
small  room  to  bestow  upon  two  chosen  mem- 
bers of  the  rabble  in  the  large  room  the  in- 
expressible glory  of  missing  a  night's  sleep. 

On  the  following  morning,  when  Lilian, 
refreshed,  arrived  zealously  at  the  office  half 
an  hour  earlier  than  usual,  she  found  three 
aspirants  waiting  to  apply  for  the  vacant 
posts.  The  advertisement  had  been  drawn  up 
and  printed;  the  newspaper  had  been  dis- 
tributed and  read,  and  the  applicants,  pitifully 
eager,  had  already  begun  to  arrive  from  the 
ends  of  London.  Sitting  in  Miss  Grig's  chair 
Lilian  nervously  interviewed  and  examined 
them.  One  of  the  three  gave  her  age  as  thirty- 
nine,  and  produced  yellowed  testimonials.  By 
ten  o'clock  twenty-three  suitors  had  come,  and 
Lilian,  frightened  by  her  responsibilities,  had 
impulsively  engaged  a  couple,  who  took  off 
hats  and  jackets  and  began  to  work  at  once. 
She  had  asked  Millicent  to  approve  of  the  final 
choice,  but  Millicent,  intensely  jealous  and  no 


The  Vizier  121 


longer  comparable  to  even  the  lowest  rank  of 
angel,  curtly  declined. 

"You're  in  charge,"  Millicent  said  acidly. 
"Don't  you  try  to  push  it  on  to  me,  Miss  Lilian 
Share." 

Aspirants  continued  to  arrive.  Lilian  had 
the  clever  idea  of  sticking  a  notice  on  the  outer 
door:  "All  situations  filled.  No  typists  re- 
quired." But  aspirants  continued  to  enter, 
and  all  of  them  averred  positively  that  they 
had  not  seen  the  notice  on  the  door.  Lilian 
told  a  junior  to  paste  four  sheets  of  typing 
paper  together,  and  she  inscribed  the  notice 
on  the  big  sheet  in  enormous  characters.  But 
aspirants  continued  to  enter,  and  all  of  them 
averred  positively  that  they  had  not  seen  the 
notice  on  the  door.  It  was  dreadful,  it  was 
appalling,  because  Lilian  was  saying  to  her- 
self: "I  may  be  like  them  one  day."  Milli- 
cent, on  the  other  hand,  disdained  the  entire 
procession,  and  seized  the  agreeable  role  of 
dismissing  applicants  as  fast  as  they  came. 

In  the  evening  Mr.  Grig  appeared.  The 
operation  had  been  a  success.  Gertie  Jackson 
was  if  anything  a  little  worse;  but  the  doctor 


122  Lilia 


n 


anticipated  an  improvement.  Mr.  Grig  showed 
not  the  least  interest  in  his  business.  Lilian 
took  the  night  duty  alone. 

Thenceforward  the  office  settled  gradually 
into  its  new  grooves,  and,  though  there  was 
much  less  efficiency  than  under  Miss  Grig, 
there  was  httle  friction.  Everybody  except 
Millicent  regarded  Lilian  as  the  grand  vizier, 
and  Millicent's  demeanour  toward  Lihan  was 
by  turns  fantastically  polite  and  fantastically 
indifferent. 

A  fortnight  passed.  The  two  patients  were 
going  on  well,  and  it  was  stated  that  there  was 
a  possibility  of  them  being  sent  together  to 
Felixstowe  for  convalescence.  Mr.  Grig's  at- 
tendance grew  more  regular,  but  he  did  little 
except  keep  the  books  and  make  out  the  biDs ; 
in  which  matter  he  displayed  a  facihty  that 
amazed  Lilian,  who  really  was  not  a  bit 
arithmetical. 

One  day,  entering  the  large  room  after 
hours,  Lilian  saw  Millicent  typing  on  a  ma- 
chine not  her  own.  As  she  passed  she  read 
the  words:  "My  darling  Gertie.  I  simply 
can't  tell  you  how  glad  I  was  to  get  your 


The  Fishier  123 


lovely  letter."  And  it  flashed  across  her  that 
Millicent  would  relate  all  the  office  doings  to 
Gertie,  who  would  relate  them  to  Miss  Grig. 
She  had  a  spasm  of  fear,  divining  that  Milli- 
cent would  misrepresent  her.  In  what  phrases 
had  Millicent  told  that  Lilian  had  sat  in  Miss 
Grig's  chair  and  interviewed  applicants  for 
situations?  Was  it  not  strange  that  Gertie 
had  not  written  to  her,  Lilian,  nor  she  even 
thought  of  writing  to  Gertie?  Too  late  now 
for  her  to  write  to  Gertie!  A  few  days  later 
Mr.  Grig  said  to  Lilian  in  the  small  room: 

"You're  very  crowded  here,  aren't  you?" 

The  two  newcomers  had  been  put  into  the 
small  room,  being  of  a  superior  sort  and  not 
fitted  to  join  the  rabble. 

"Oh,  no!"  said  Lilian.  "We're  quite  com- 
fortable, thank  you." 

"You  don't  seem  to  be  very  comfortable. 
It  occurs  to  me  it  would  be  better  in  every 
way  if  you  brought  your  machine  into  my 
room." 

An  impulse,  and  an  error  of  judgment,  on 
Felix's  part!     But  he  was  always  capricious. 

"I  should  prefer  to  stay  where  I  am,"  Lilian 


124  Lilian 

answered,  not  smiling.  What  a  letter  Milli- 
cent  would  have  written  in  order  to  describe 
Lihan's  promotion  to  the  principals'  room! 

Often,  having  made  a  mistake,  Felix  would 
persist  in  it  from  obstinacy. 

"Oh!  As  you  like!"  he  muttered  huffily, 
instead  of  recognizing  by  his  tone  that  Lilian 
was  right.  But  the  next  moment  he  repeated, 
very  softly  and  kindly:  "As  you  like!  It's  for 
you  to  decide."  He  had  not  once  shown  the 
least  appreciation  of,  or  gratitude  for,  Lihan's 
zeal.  On  the  contrary  he  had  been  in  the  main 
querulous  and  censorious.  But  she  did  not 
mind.  She  was  richly  rewarded  by  a  single 
benevolent  inflection  of  that  stirring  voice. 
She  seemed  to  have  forgotten  that  she  was 
born  for  pleasure,  luxury,  empire.  Work 
fully  satisfied  her,  but  it  was  work  for  him. 
The  mere  suggestion  that  she  should  sit  in  his 
room  filled  her  with  deep  joy. 


THE  MARTYR 

MISS  GRIG  came  back  to  the  office  on 
a  Thursday,  and  somewhat  mysteri- 
ously. Millicent,  no  doubt  from  information 
received  through  Gertie  Jackson,  had  been 
hinting  for  several  days  that  the  return  would 
not  be  long  delayed;  but  Mr.  Grig  had  said 
not  one  word  about  the  matter  until  the 
Wednesday  evening,  when  he  told  Lilian,  with 
apparent  casualness,  as  she  was  leaving  for 
the  night,  that  his  sister  might  be  expected 
the  next  morning.  As  for  Miss  Jackson,  she 
would  resume  her  duties  only  on  the  Monday, 
having  family  affairs  to  transact  at  Islington. 
Miss  Jackson,  it  seemed,  had  developed  into 
the  trusted  companion  and  intimate — almost 
ally,  if  the  term  were  not  presumptuous — of 
the  soul  and  dynamo  of  the  business.  Miss 
Grig  and  she  had  suffered  together,  they  had 
solaced  and  strengthened  each  other ;  and  Ger- 

125 


126  Lilii 


tan 


tie,  for  all  her  natural  humility,  was  hence- 
forth to  play  in  the  office  a  role  superior  to 
that  of  a  senior  employee.  She  had  already 
been  endowed  with  special  privileges,  and 
among  these  was  the  privilege  of  putting  the 
interests  of  Islington  before  the  interests  of 
Clifford  Street. 

The  advent  of  Miss  Grig  of  course  con- 
siderably agitated  the  office  and  in  particular 
the  small  room,  two  of  whose  occupants  had 
never  seen  the  principal  of  whose  capacity  for 
sustained  effort  they  had  heard  such  wonder- 
ful and  frightening  tales. 

At  nine-thirty  that  Thursday  morning  it 
was  reported  in  both  rooms  that  Miss  Grig 
had  re-entered  her  fortress.  Nobody  had  seen 
her  but  ears  had  heard  her,  and  moreover  it 
was  mystically  known  by  certain  signs,  as  for 
example,  the  reversal  of  a  doormat  which  had 
been  out  of  position  for  a  week,  that  a  higher 
presence  was  imminent  in  the  place  and  that 
the  presence  could  be  none  other  than  Miss 
Grig.  Everybody  became  an  exemplar  of 
assiduity,  amiability,  and  entire  conscientious- 
ness.   Everybody  prepared  a  smile ;  and  there 


The  Martyr  127 


was  a  universal  wish  for  the  day  to  be  over. 

Shortly  after  ten  o'clock  Miss  Grig  visited 
the  small  room,  shook  hands  with  Lilian  and 
Millicent,  and  permitted  the  two  new  typists 
to  be  presented  to  her.  Millicent  spoke  first 
and  was  so  effusive  in  the  expression  of  the 
delight  induced  in  her  by  the  spectacle  of  Miss 
Grig  and  of  her  sjonpathy  for  the  past  and 
hope  for  the  future  of  Miss  Grig's  health,  that 
Lilian,  who  nevertheless  did  her  best  to  be 
winning,  could  not  possibly  compete  with  her. 
Miss  Grig  had  a  purified  and  chastened  air, 
as  of  one  detached  by  suffering  from  the  gross- 
ness  and  folly  of  the  world  and  existing  hence- 
forth in  the  world  solely  from  a  cold,  pas- 
sionate sense  of  duty.  Her  hair  was  greyer, 
her  mild  equable  voice  more  soft,  and  her 
burning  eyes  had  a  brighter  and  more  un- 
earthly lustre.  She  said  that  she  was  perfectly 
restored,  let  fall  that  Mr.  Grig  had  gone  away 
at  her  request  for  a  short,  much-needed  hoh- 
day,  and  then  passed  smoothly  on  to  the  large 
room. 

After  a  while  a  little  flapper  of  a  beginner 
came  to  tell  Milhcent  that  Miss  Grig  wanted 


128  Lilian 

her.  Millicent,  who  had  had  charge  of  the 
petty  cash  during  the  interregnum,  was  ab- 
sent for  forty  minutes.  When  she  returned, 
flushed  but  smiling,  to  her  expectant  col- 
leagues, she  informed  Lilian  that  Miss  Grig 
desired  to  see  her  at  twelve  o'clock. 

"I  notice  there's  an  account  here  under  the 
name  of  Lord  Mackworth,"  Miss  Grig  began, 
having  allowed  LiHan  to  stand  for  a  few  sec- 
onds before  looking  up  from  the  ledger  and 
other  books  in  which  she  was  apparently  ab- 
sorbed. She  spoke  with  the  utmost  gentleness, 
and  fixed  her  oppressive  deep  eyes  on  Lilian's. 

"Yes,  Miss  Grig?" 

"It  hasn't  been  paid." 

"Oh!"  Lilian  against  an  intense  volition 
began  to  blush. 

"Didn't  you  know?" 

"I  didn't,"  said  Lihan. 

"But  you've  been  having  something  to  do 
with  the  books  during  my  absence." 

"I  did  a  little  at  first,"  Lilian  admitted. 
"Then  Mr.  Grig  saw  to  them." 

"Miss  Merrislate  tells  me  that  you  had 
quite  a  lot  to  do  with  them,  and  I  see  your 


The  Martyr  129 


handwriting  in   a   number   of   places   here." 
"I've  had  nothing  to  do  with  them  for  about 
three  weeks — I   should  think  at  least  three 
weeks,  and — and  of  course  I  expected  the  bill 
would  be  paid  by  this  time." 
"But  you  never  asked?" 
"No.     It  never  occurred  to  me." 
This  statement  was  inaccurate.     Lilian  had 
often  wondered  whether  Lord  Mackworth  had 
paid  his  bill,  but,  from  some  obscurely  caused 
self -consciousness,  she  had  not  dared  to  make 
any  inquiry.     She  felt  herself  to  be  somehow 
"mixed  up"  with  Lord  Mackworth,  and  had 
absurdly  feared  that  if  she  mentioned  the  name 
there  might  appear  on  the  face  or  in  the  voice 
of  the  detestable  Milly  some  sinister  innuendo. 
"Miss  Merrislate  tells  me  that  she  didn't 
trouble  about  the  account  as  she  supposed  it 
was  your  affair." 

"My  affair!"  exclaimed  Lilian  impulsively. 
"It's  no  more  my  affair  than  anybody  else's." 
She  surmised  in  the  situation  some  ingen- 
ious malevolence  of  the  flat-breasted  mischief- 
maker. 

"But  you  did  the  work?" 


130  Lilian 

"Yes.  It  came  in  while  I  was  on  duty  that 
night,  and  I  did  it  at  once.  There  was  no  one 
else  to  do  it." 

"Who  brought  it  in?'* 

"Lord  Mackworth." 

"Did  you  know  him?" 

"Certainly  not.  I  didn't  know  him  from 
Adam." 

"Never  mind  Adam,  Miss  Share,"  observed 
Miss  Grig  genially.  "Has  Lord  Mackworth 
been  in  since?" 

"If  he  has  I've  not  seen  him,"  Lilian  an- 
swered defiantly.  Miss  Grig's  geniality  exas- 
perated her  because  it  did  not  deceive  her. 

"I'm  only  asking  for  information,"  Miss 
Grig  said  with  a  placatory  smile.  "I  see  the 
copies  were  delivered  at  six-thirty  in  the  morn- 
ing.   Who  delivered  the  job?" 

"I  did." 

"Where?" 

"At  his  address.  I  dropped  it  into  the 
letter-box  on  my  way  home  after  my  night's 
work.  I  stayed  here  because  somebody  had 
to  stay,  and  I  did  the  best  I  could." 

"I'm  quite  sure  of  that,"  Miss  Grig  agreed. 


The  Martyr  131 


"And  of  course  you've  been  paid  for  all  over- 
time— and  there's  been  quite  a  good  deal.  We 
all  do  the  best  we  can.  At  least  I  hope  so.  .  .  . 
And  you've  never  seen  Lord  Mackworth 
since  i 

"No." 

"And  you  simply  dropped  the  envelope  into 
the  letter-box?" 

"Yes." 

"Didn't  see  Lord  Mackworth  that  morn- 
mg? 

"Certainly  not." 

Bv  this  time  Lilian  was  convinced  that  Miss 
Grig's  intention  was  to  provoke  her  to  open 
resentment.  She  guessed  also  that  Milly  must 
have  deliberately  kept  silence  to  her,  Lilian, 
about  the  Mackworth  account  in  the  hope  of 
trouble  on  jMiss  Grig's  return,  and  that  Milly 
had  done  everything  she  could  that  morning 
to  ensure  trouble.  The  pot  had  been  simmer- 
ing in  secret  for  weeks;  now  it  was  boiling 
over.     She  felt  helpless  and  furious. 

"You  know,"  Miss  Grig  proceeded,  "there's 
a  rule  in  this  office  that  night-work  must  only 
be  delivered  by  hand  by  the  day-staff  the  next 


132 


Lilii 


tan 


day.  If  it's  wanted  urgently  before  the  day- 
staff  arrives  the  customer  must  fetch  it." 

"Excuse  me,  Miss  Grig,  I  never  heard  of 
that  rule." 

Miss  Grig  smiled  again:  "Well,  at  any  rate 
it  was  your  business  to  have  heard  of  it,  my 
dear.     Everybody  else  knows  about  it." 

"I  told  Mr.  Grig  I  was  going  to  deliver  it 
myself,  and  he  didn't  say  anything." 

"Please  don't  attempt  to  lay  the  blame  on 
my  brother.  He  is  far  too  good-natured." 
Miss  Grig's  gaze  burned  into  LiHan's  face  as, 
with  an  enigmatic  intonation,  she  uttered  these 
words.  "You  did  wrong.  And  I  suppose 
you've  never  heard  either  of  the  rule  that  new 
customers  must  always  pay  on  or  before  de- 
livery?" 

"Yes,  I  have.  But  I  couldn't  ask  for  the 
money  at  half  past  six  in  the  morning,  could  I? 
And  I  couldn't  tell  him  how  much  it  would 
be  before  I'd  typed  it." 

"Yes,  you  could,  my  dear,  and  you  ought 
to  have  done.  You  could  have  estimated  it 
and  left  a  margin  for  errors.  That  was  the 
proper  course.     And  if  you  know  anything 


The  Martyr  133 


about  Lord  Mackworth  you  must  know  that 
his  debts  are  notorious.  I  believe  he's  one  of 
the  fastest  young  men  about  town,  and  it's 
more  than  possible  that  that  account's  a  bad 
debt." 

"But  can't  we  send  in  the  account  again?'* 
Lilian  weakly  suggested;  she  was  overthrown 
by  the  charge  of  fast-living  against  Lord 
Mackworth,  yet  she  had  always  in  her  heart 
assumed  that  he  was  a  fast-liver. 

"I've  just  telephoned  to  6a  St.  James  Street, 
and  I  needn't  say  that  Lord  Mackworth  is  no 
longer  there,  and  they  don't  know  where  he  is. 
You  see  what  comes  of  disobeying  rules." 

Lihan  lifted  her  head:  "Well,  Miss  Grig, 
the  bill  isn't  so  very  big,  and  if  you'll  please 
deduct  it  from  my  wages  on  Saturday  I  hope 
that  wiU  be  the  end  of  that." 

It  was  plain  that  the  bewildered  creature 
had  but  an  excessively  imperfect  notion  of 
how  to  be  an  employee.  She  had  taken  to  the 
vocation  too  late  in  life. 

Miss  Grig  put  her  hand  to  the  support  of 
her  forehead,  and  paused. 


134  Lilian 

"I  can  tolerate  many  things,"  said  she,  with 
great  benignity,  "but  not  insolence." 

"I  didn't  mean  to  be  insolent." 

"You  did.  And  I  think  you  had  better 
accept  a  week's  notice  from  Saturday.  No. 
On  second  thoughts,  I'll  pay  your  wages  up 
to  Saturday  week  now  and  you  can  go  at 
once."  She  smiled  kindly.  "That  will  give 
you  time  to  turn  round." 

"Oh!     Very  weU,  if  it's  like  that!" 

Miss  Grig  unlocked  a  drawer;  and  while  she 
was  counting  the  money  Lilian  thought  de- 
spairingly that  if  Mr.  Grig,  or  even  if  the  nice 
Gertie,  had  been  in  the  office,  the  disaster  could 
not  have  occurred. 

Miss  Grig  shook  hands  with  her  and  wished 
her  well. 

"Where  are  you  going  to?  It's  not  one 
o'clock  yet,"  asked  Millicent  in  the  small  room 
as  Lilian  silently  unhooked  her  hat  and  jacket 
from  the  clothes-cupboard. 

"Out." 

"What  for?" 

"For  Miss  G.,  if  you  want  to  know." 

And  she  left.     Except  her  clothes  not  a 


The  Martyr  135 


thing  in  the  office  belonged  to  her.  She  had 
no  lien,  no  attachment.  The  departure  was 
as  simple  and  complete  as  leaving  a  Tube 
train.  No  word!  No  good-bye!  Merely  a 
disappearance. 


VI 

THE  INVITATION 

SHE  walked  a  mile  eastwards  along  Oxford 
Street  before  entering  a  tea  shop,  in  order 
to  avoid  meeting  any  of  the  girls,  all  of 
whom,  except  the  very  youngest  and  the  very 
stingiest,  distributed  themselves  among  the 
neighbouring  establishments  for  the  absurdly 
insufficient  snack  called  lunch.  Every  place 
was  full  just  after  one  o'clock,  and  crammed 
at  one-fifteen.  She  asked  for  a  whole  meat  pie 
instead  of  a  half,  for  she  felt  quite  unusually 
hungry.  A  plot!  That  was  what  it  was!  A 
plot  against  her,  matured  by  Miss  G.  in  a  few 
minutes  out  of  Milly's  innuendos  written  to 
Gertie  and  spoken  to  Miss  G.  herself.  And 
the  reason  of  the  plot  was  Miss  G.'s  spinsterish 
passionate  fear  of  a  friendship  between  Felix 
Grig  and  Lilian !  Lilian  was  ready  to  believe 
that  Miss  G.  had  engineered  the  absence  of 
both  her  brother  and  Gertie  so  as  to  be  free 

136 


The  Invitation  137 

to  work  her  will  without  the  possibility  of 
complications.  If  Miss  G.  hated  her,  she 
hated  Miss  G.  with  at  least  an  equal  fierceness 
— the  fierceness  of  an  unarmed  victim.  The 
injustice  of  the  world  staggered  her.  She 
thought  that  something  ought  to  be  done  about 
it.  Even  Lord  Mackworth  was  gravely  to 
blame  for  not  having  paid  his  bill.  Still,  that 
detail  had  not  much  importance,  because  Miss 
G.,  deprived  of  one  pretext,  would  soon  have 
found  another.  After  all  that  she,  Lilian,  had 
done  for  the  office,  to  be  turned  off  at  a 
moment's  notice,  and  without  a  character, — 
for  Miss  G.  would  never  give  a  reference, 
and  Lilian  would  never  ask  for  a  reference! 
Never !  Nor  would  she  nor  could  she  approach 
Felix  Grig;  nor  Gertie  either.  Perhaps  Felix 
Grig  might  communicate  with  her.  He  cer- 
tainly ought  to  do  so.  But  then,  he  was  very 
casual,  forgetful  and  unconsciously  cruel. 

All  the  men  and  girls  in  the  packed  tea-shop 
had  work  behind  them  and  work  in  front  of 
them.  They  knew  where  they  were ;  they  had 
a  function  on  the  earth.  She,  Lilian,  had 
nothing,  save  a  couple  of  weeks'  wages  and 


138 Lilian _^^ 

perhaps  a  hundred  pounds  in  the  Post  Office 
Savings  Bank.  Resentment  against  her  father 
flickered  up  anew  from  its  ashes  in  her  heart. 

How  could  she  occupy  herself  after  lunch? 
Unthinkable  for  her  to  go  to  her  lodging  until 
the  customary  hour,  unless  she  could  pretend 
to  be  ill;  and  if  she  feigned  illness  the  well- 
disposed  slavey  would  be  after  her  and  would 
see  through  the  trick  at  once,  and  it  would  be 
all  over  the  house  that  something  had  hap- 
pened to  Miss  Share.  The  afternoon  was  an 
enormous  trackless  expanse  which  had  to  be 
somehow  traversed  by  a  weary  and  terribly 
discouraged  wayfarer.  Her  father  had  been 
in  the  habit  of  conducting  his  family  on  cere- 
monial visits  to  the  public  art  galleries.  She 
went  to  the  Wallace  Collection,  and  saw  how 
millionaires  lived  in  the  seventies  and  how  the 
unchaste  and  lovely  ladies  were  dressed  for 
whom  entire  populations  were  sacrificed  in  the 
seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries.  Thence 
to  a  cinema  near  the  Marble  Arch,  and  saw  how 
virtue  infallibly  wins  after  all. 

When,  after  travelling  countless  leagues  of 
time  and  ennui,  she  reached  home  she  received 


The  Invitation  139 

a  note  from  Mr.  Pladda  inviting  her  to  the 
Hammersmith  Palais  de  Danse  for  the  fol- 
lowing night.  Mr.  Pladda  was  the  star  lodger 
in  the  house, — a  man  of  forty-five,  legally- 
separated  from  his  wife  but  of  impeccable 
respectability  and  decorum.  His  illusion  Was 
that  he  could  dance  rather  well.  Mr.  Pladda 
was  evidently  coming  on. 

The  next  morning,  which  was  very  fine, 
Lilian  spent  in  Hyde  Park,  marshalling  her 
resources.  Beyond  her  trifling  capital  she  had 
none.  Especially  she  had  no  real  friends.  She 
had  unwisely  cut  loose  from  her  parents'  ac- 
quaintances, and  she  could  not  run  after  them 
now  that  she  was  in  misfortune.  Her  former 
colleagues?  Out  of  the  question!  Gertie 
might  prove  a  friend,  but  Gertie  must  begin; 
Lilian  could  not  begin.  Lord  Mackworth? 
Silly  idea!  She  still  thought  of  Lord  Mack- 
worth  romantically.  He  was  an  unattainable 
hero  at  about  the  same  level  as  before  in  her 
mind,  for  while  his  debts  had  lowered  him 
his  advertised  dissoluteness  had  mysteriously 
raised  him.  (Yet  in  these  hours  and  days 
Mr.  Pladda  himself  was  not  more  absolutely 


140  Lilian 

respectable  and  decorous,  in  mind  and  de- 
meanour, than  Lilian.)  She  went  to  two 
cinemas  in  the  afternoon,  and,  safe  in  the  dark- 
ness of  the  second  one,  cried  silently. 

But  with  Mr.  Pladda  at  the  Palais  de  Danse 
she  was  admirably  cheerful,  and  Mr.  Pladda 
was  exceedingly  proud  of  his  companion,  who 
added  refined  manners  to  startling  beauty. 
She  delicately  praised  his  dancing,  whereupon 
he  ordered  lemon  squashes  and  tomato  sand- 
wiches. At  the  little  table  she  told  him  calmly 
that  she  was  leaving  her  present  situation  and 
taking  another. 

Back  in  her  room,  she  laughed  with  horrid 
derision.  And  as  soon  as  she  was  in  bed  the 
clockwork  mice  started  to  run  round  and 
round  in  her  head.  A  plot !  A  plot !  What 
a  burning  shame!  What  a  burning  shame  I 
...  A  few  weeks  earlier  she  had  actually  been 
bestowing  situations  on  pitiful  applicants. 
Now  she  herself  had  no  situation  and  no  pros- 
pect of  any.  She  had  never  had  to  apply  for 
a  situation.  She  had  not  been  educated  to 
situations.  She  could  not  imagine  herself  ever 
applying  for  a  situation.    She  had  not  the  least 


The  Invitation  141 

idea  how  to  begin  to  try  to  get  a  situation. 
She  passed  the  greater  part  of  Sunday  in  bed, 
and  in  the  evening  went  to  church  and  felt 
serious  and  good. 

On  Monday  morning  she  visited  the  Post 
Office  and  filled  up  a  withdrawal  form  for 
forty  pounds.  She  had  had  a  notion  of  be- 
coming a  companion  to  a  rich  lady,  or  private 
secretary  to  a  member  of  parhament.  She 
would  advertise.  Good  clothes,  worn  as  she 
could  wear  them,  would  help  her.  ( She  could 
not  face  another  situation  in  an  office.  No, 
she  couldn't.)  The  notion  of  a  simpleton,  of 
course!  But  she  was  still  a  simpleton.  The 
notion,  however,  was  in  reality  only  a  pretext 
for  obtaining  some  good  clothes.  All  her  life 
she  had  desired  more  than  anything  a  smart 
dress.  There  was  never  a  moment  in  her  life 
when  she  was  less  entitled  to  indulge  herself; 
but  she  felt  desperate.  She  was  taking  to 
clothes  as  some  take  to  brandy.  On  the 
Wednesday  she  received  the  money :  a  colossal, 
a  marvellous  sum.  She  ran  off  with  it  and 
nervously  entered  a  big  shop  in  Wigmore 
Street;  the  shop  was  a  wise  choice  on  her  part, 


142  Lilian 

for  it  combined  smartness  with  a  discreet  and 
characteristic  Enghshness.  Impossible  to  have 
the  dangerous  air  of  an  adventuress  in  a  frock 
bought  at  that  shop! 

The  next  few  days  were  spent  in  exactly- 
fitting  and  adapting  the  purchases  to  her  body. 
She  had  expended  the  forty  pounds  and  drawn 
out  eight  more.  Through  the  medium  of  the 
slavey  she  borrowed  a  mirror,  and  fixed  it  at 
an  angle  with  her  own  so  that  she  could  see 
her  back.  She  was  so  interested  and  absorbed 
that  she  now  and  then  neglected  to  feel  un- 
happy and  persecuted.  She  neglected  also  to 
draw  up  an  advertisement,  postponing  that 
difficult  matter  until  the  clothes  should  be 
finished.  But  the  house  gathered  that  Miss 
Share  had  got  her  new  situation.  One  after- 
noon, early,  returning  home  after  a  search  for 
white  elastic  in  Hammersmith,  she  saw  Mr. 
Grig  coming  away  from  the  house.  She  stood 
still,  transfixed;  she  flushed  hotly,  and  de- 
scried a  beneficent  and  just  God  reigning  in 
heaven.  She  knew  she  was  saved;  and  the 
revulsion  in  her  was  nearly  overwhelming.  A 
miracle!    And  yet — not  a  miracle  at  all;    for 


The  Invitation  143 

Mr.  Grig  was  bound  by  every  consideration  of 
honour  and  decency  to  get  into  communication 
with  her  sooner  or  later.  Her  doubts  of  his 
integrity  had  been  inexcusable. 

"I've  just  left  a  note  for  you,"  he  said, 
affecting  carelessness.  "I  brought  it  down 
myself  because  I  couldn't  remember  whether 
your  number  was  56  or  63,  and  I  had  to  en- 
quire. Moreover  it's  urgent.  I  want  to  talk 
to  you.  Will  you  dine  with  me  to-night  at 
the  Devonshire  Restaurant,  Jermyn  Street? 
Eight  o'clock.  I  shan't  be  able  to  dress,  so  you 
could  wear  a  hat.  Yes  or  no?  .  .  ."  He  was 
gone  again  in  a  moment. 

Lilian  literally  ran  upstairs  to  her  room  in 
order  to  be  alone  with  her  ecstatic  happiness. 
She  hugged  it,  kissed  it,  smothered  it;  then 
read  the  wonderful  note  three  times  and  viewed 
all  her  new  clothes. 


VII 

THE  AVOWAL 

AS  Lilian  armed  herself  for  the  field  she 
discovered  that  after  all  her  care,  she 
had  omitted  to  provide  several  small  details, 
the  absence  of  each  of  which  seemed  for  a  few 
moments  in  turn  to  be  a  disaster.  But  on  the 
whole  she  was  well  satisfied  with  the  total  ef- 
fectiveness. The  slattern,  who  had  been  fur- 
tively summoned,  and  who  was  made  to  wash 
her  hands  before  touching  a  hook-and-eye, 
expressed,  in  whispers,  an  admiring  amaze- 
ment which  enheartened  Lilian  in  spite  of  its 
uninformed  quality.  The  girl,  as  if  bewitched, 
followed  the  vision  down  to  the  front  door. 

"If  it  rains  you're  ruined,  miss,"  said  the 
girl  anxiously,  glancing  up  into  the  heavy 
darkness  where  not  a  star  was  to  be  seen. 
"'You  ought  to  have  an  umbrella." 

Lilian  shook  her  head. 

"It  won't  rain,"  she  answered  cheerfully. 

144 


The  Avowal  145 


But  as  soon  as  she  was  fairly  away  from 
the  house  she  felt,  or  thought  she  felt,  a  drop 
of  rain,  and,  seeing  a  taxi,  she  impulsively 
hailed  it,  wishing  to  heavens  the  next  instant 
she  had  not  been  so  audacious.  For  although 
twice  with  her  father  and  mother  she  had 
ridden  in  taxis  on  very  great  occasions,  she  had 
never  in  her  life  actually  taken  one  by  herself. 
Her  voice  failed  and  broke  as  she  said  to  the 
driver,  "Devonshire  Restaurant,  Jermyn 
Street";  but  the  driver  was  proficient  in  com- 
prehension, and  the  Devonshire  Restaurant  in 
Jermyn  Street  seemed  to  be  as  familiar  to 
him  as  Charing  Cross  Station. 

In  the  taxi  she  collected  herself.  She 
thought  she  was  all  right  except  for  her  lips. 
She  knew  that  her  hps  ought  to  have  been 
slightly  coloured,  but  she  thought  she  also 
knew  what  was  the  best  lip-stick  and  she  had 
not  been  able  to  get  it  in  Hanmiersmith.  As 
for  her  nails,  she  was  glad  that  it  had  been  im- 
possible for  her  to  tint  them.  She  must  re- 
member that  she  was  a  typist,  and  though 
typists,  and  even  discharged  typists,  generally 
help  their  lips  to  be  crimson  on  state-nights. 


146  Lilian 

they  do  not  usually  tint  their  nails — unless 
they  have  abandoned  discretion. 

Lilian  was  glad  when  justifying  rain  began 
to  fall.  While  she  paid  the  driver  at  her  des- 
tination a  commissionaire  held  a  vast  umbrella 
over  her  fragile  splendour. 

Her  legs  literally  shook  as  she  entered  the 
restaurant,  exactly  as  once  they  had  shaken 
in  an  air-raid.  Within  was  a  rich,  tiny  little 
waiting-room  with  a  view  of  the  dining-room 
beyond.  She  hesitated  awkwardly,  for  owing 
to  the  taxi  she  was  nearly  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
too  early.    A  respectful  attendant  said : 

"Are  you  expecting  anyone,  madam?" 

"Yes." 

"What  name,  madam?" 

"Mr.  Grig." 

"Oh  yes,  madam.     His  table  is  booked." 

She  had  sat  down.  She  could  now  inspect 
herself  in  half  a  dozen  large  mirrors  and  she 
almost  ceased  to  fear  for  her  appearance.  It 
was  her  deportment  and  demeanour  that  now 
troubled  her.  In  this  matter  she  was  disturb- 
ingly aware  that  she  had  both  to  unlearn  and 
to  learn.     She  looked  through  the  glass  parti- 


The  Avowal  147 


tion  into  the  restaurant.  It  was  small  but 
sumptuous;  and  empty  of  diners  save  for  a 
couple  of  women  who  were  smoking  and 
eating  simultaneously.  People,  chiefly  in 
couples,  kept  arriving  and  passing  through  the 
ante-chamber.  She  picked  up  a  copy  of 
What's  On,  pretending  to  study  it  but  study- 
ing the  arrivals.  Then  she  felt  a  man  come 
in  and  glimpsed  the  attendant  pointing  to  her- 
self. Mr.  Grig  could  not  entirely  conceal  his 
astonishment  at  the  smartness  of  her  appear- 
ance. He  had  in  fact  not  immediately  recog- 
nized her.  His  surprised  pleasure  and  appre- 
ciation gave  her  both  pleasure  and  confidence. 

"I'm  not  late,"  he  said,  resuming  rapidly 
his  rather  quizzical  matter-of-factness. 

"No.     I  was  too  early." 

The  attendant  took  Mr.  Grig's  overcoat 
like  a  sacred  treasure;  he  was  shown  to  be 
in  a  dark  blue  suit;  and  they  passed  to  the 
restaurant. 

Lilian  thought : 

"Anjrsvay  he  can't  think  I've  bought  these 
clothes  specially  for  this  affair,  because  he 
only  asked  me  this  afternoon." 


148  Lilian 

The  table  reserved  was  in  a  corner.  Lilian 
had  a  full  view  of  the  whole  restaurant,  while 
Mr.  Grig  had  a  full  view  of  nothing  but  Lilian. 
For  a  girl  in  Lilian's  situation  he  was  an  ideal 
host,  for  the  reason  that  he  talked  just  as  nat- 
urally— and  in  particular,  curtly — as  if  they 
had  been  at  the  office  together.  When  a  waiter 
shackled  in  silver  approached  with  the  wine- 
list,  he  asked: 

"What  wine  do  you  prefer?" 

"Whatever  you  prefer,"  she  replied,  with  a 
prompt  and  delicious  smile. 

"Oh,  no!"  he  protested,  "That  won't  do  at 
all.  If  a  woman's  given  the  choice  she  ought 
to  choose.  She  must  submit  ideas  at  any  rate. 
Otherwise  we  shall  go  wandering  all  through 
the  wine-list  and  finally  settle  on  something 
neither  of  us  wants." 

Lilian  had  learnt  a  little  about  wines  (she 
had  sipped  often  from  the  paternal  glass) ,  and 
also  about  good  plain  cooking. 

"Burgundy,"  she  said. 

Without  another  word  Mr.  Grig  turned  to 
the  Burgimdy  page,  and  while  he  was  selecting 
Lilian  took  off  her  gloves  and  gazed  timidly 


The  Avowal  149 


around.  It  was  the  silver  table-lamps,  each 
glowing  under  a  canopy  of  orange,  that  im- 
pressed her  more  than  anything  else.  She  saw 
shoulders,  bosoms,  pearls,  white  shirt-fronts, 
black  backs — the  room  was  still  filling — all 
repeated  in  gilt  mirrors.  The  manner  of  the 
numerous  waiters  corresponded  to  her  notion 
of  court  chamberlains.  This  was  the  first  high- 
class  restaurant  she  had  ever  seen,  and  despite 
her  nervousness  she  felt  more  at  home  in  it, 
more  exultingly  happy  in  it,  than  anywhere 
before  in  all  her  existence.  She  passionately 
loved  it,  and  her  beauty  seemed  to  increase 
in  radiance.  She  liked  to  think  that  it  was 
extremely  costly.  Compare  it  to  the  Palais 
de  Danse,  Mr.  Pladda,  and  the  tomato  sand- 
wiches! Ah!  It  was  the  genuine  article  at 
last!  She  took  surreptitious  glances  also  at 
Mr.  Grig's  bent  face;  and  the  face  was  so 
strange  to  her,  though  just  the  same  as  of  old, 
that  she  might  have  been  seeing  it  for  the  first 
time.  The  greatness,  the  enormity  of  the  oc- 
casion, frightened  her.  What  were  they  doing 
there  together  ?  And  what  in  the  future  would 
they  do  together?    Was  he  really  and  seriously 


150  Lilian 

attracted  by  her?  Was  she  in  love  with  him? 
Or  was  it  all  a  curious  and  dangerous  decep- 
tion? She  had  always  understood  that  when 
one  was  in  love  one  knew  definitely  that  one 
was  in  love.  Whereas  she  was  sure  of  nothing 
whatever.  Nevertheless  she  was  uphfted  into 
a  beatific,  irrational  and  reckless  joy.  Never 
had  she  felt  as  she  felt  while  Mr.  Grig  was 
selecting  the  Burgundy. 

"Now  we'd  better  be  getting  to  business," 
said  he,  when  the  hors  d'oeuvre  had  been  re- 
moved and  the  soup  served.  "I  had  a  letter 
from  my  sister  this  morning.  She  wrote — 
wait  a  minute!"  He  pulled  a  letter  from  his 
pocket  and  read  out:  "  'I'm  sorry  to  say  I've 
been  compelled  to  get  rid  of  poor  Lilian  Share. 
She's  a  nice  enough  girl  in  her  way,  but  when 
you're  not  here  I'm  in  charge  of  this  office, 
and  as  she  couldn't  treat  me  with  the  respect 
due  me,  I  had  to  decide  at  once  what  to  do 
and  I  did  decide.  I  treated  her  generously, 
and  I  hope  she'll  soon  get  another  place.  She 
will  of  course,  because  she  can  be  so  very  at- 
tractive when  she  likes/ — underlined — 'but  I 
fear   she   isn't   likely  to   keep   it   unless   she 


The  Avowal  151 


changes  her  style  of  behaviour.'  "  He  smacked 
the  letter  together  and  returned  it  to  his 
pocket.  "There,  you  see!  I'm  being  remark- 
ably frank  with  you.  I  came  up  from  Brigh- 
ton on  purpose  to  tell  you,  and  I'm  going  back 
by  the  last  train  to-night.  My  sister  is  quite 
unaware  of  this  escapade.  In  fact  at  the 
moment  I'm  leading  a  double  life.  Now!  I've 
given  you  one  version  of  this  mighty  incident. 
Give  me  your  version." 

Lihan,  troubled,  looked  at  her  mother's  en- 
gagement ring  on  her  finger — the  sole  jewel 
she  carried — and  smiled  with  acute  restraint 
at  her  plate. 

"Have  you  got  another  situation?  I  sup- 
pose not,"  Mr.  Grig  went  on. 

"No— not  yet." 

"Have  you  tried  for  one?" 

"No." 

"Then  what  are  you  about?" 

"Oh!  My  father  left  me  a  little  money — 
very  little,  but  I'm  not  starving." 

"So  I  should  judge  ....  Well,  tell  me 
all  about  it." 

"I  didn't  mean  to  be  rude  to  her — really 


152  Lilian 

I  didn't.  It  was  about  a  small  bill  of  Lord 
Mackworth's."  ' 

She  related  the  episode  in  detail,  repeating 
the  conversation  with  marvellous  exactitude, 
but  with  too  many  "she  saids,  she  saids,"  and 
"I  saids,  I  saids."  Mr.  Grig  laughed  when  she 
came  to  the  offer  to  pay  the  bill  herself,  and 
after  a  moment  she  gave  a  slight  responsive 
smile.  She  was  very  careful  not  to  make  or 
even  to  imply  the  least  charge  against  Miss 
Grig,  and  she  accomplished  the  duphcity  with 
much  skill. 

"I  can  promise  you  one  thing,"  said  Mr. 
Grig.  "The  moment  I  get  back  I'll  see  that 
Milly  is  sacked.  I  cannot  stick  that  bag  of 
bones." 

''Please  don't!" 

"You  don't  want  me  to?" 

Lilian  shook  her  head  slowly. 

"All  right,  then.  I  won't.  Now  I'll  tell 
you  the  whole  business  in  a  nutshell.  My  sis- 
ter's a  great  woman.  She's  perfectly  mad,  but 
she's  .a  great  woman.  Only  where  I'm  con- 
cerned she's  always  most  monstrously  unscru- 
pulous.    I'm  her  religion — always  was,  but 


The  Avowal  153 


more  than  ever  since  I  bought  that  amusing 
business.  She  was  dying  of  boredom.  It 
saved  her.  When  I  got  myself  divorced  she 
was  absolutely  delighted.  She  had  me  to  her- 
self again.  Her  jealously  where  I'm  con- 
cerned is  ferocious.  She  can't  help  it;  but  it's 
ferocious.  Tigresses  aren't  in  it  with  her. 
She  was  jealous  of  you,  and  she'd  determined 
to  clear  you  out.  I've  perceived  that  for  a 
long  time." 

"But  why  should  she  be  jealous  of  me? 
I'm  sure  I've  never " 

"Well,  she's  damned  clever,  Isabel  is,  and 
she's  seen  that  I'm  in  love  with  you.  Gone — 
far  gone!" 

He  spoke  with  strange  detachment,  as  of 
another  person. 

The  thud-thud  of  Lilian's  heart  appalled 
her.  She  blushed  down  to  her  neck.  Her 
hand  shook.  The  restaurant  and  all  its  inhab- 
itants vanished  in  a  cloud  and  then  slowly  re- 
appeared. Her  confusion  of  mind  was  ter- 
rible. She  was  shocked,  outraged,  by  the 
negligently  brutal  candour  of  the  avowal;  and 
at  the  same  time  she  was  thinking:    "I'd  no 


154  Lilian 

idea  that  any  man  was  as  marvellous  as  this 
man  is,  and  I  don't  think  there  can  possibly 
be  another  man  quite  as  marvellous  anywhere. 
And  his  being  in  love  with  me  is  the  most  rav- 
ishing, lovely,  tender — tender — ^tender  thing 
that  ever  happened  to  any  girl.  And  of  course 
he  is  in  love  with  me.  He's  not  pretending. 
He  would  never  pretend .    .    .    . " 

She  wanted  to  be  unconscious  for  a  little 
while.  She  did  not  know  it,  but  her  beautiful 
face  was  transfigured  by  the  interplay  of  shy- 
ness, modesty,  soft  resentment,  gratitude, 
ecstasy  and  determination.  Her  head  was 
bowed  and  she  could  not  raise  it.  Neither 
could  she  utter  a  single  word.  She  looked 
divine,  and  thought  she  looked  either  silly  or 
sulky.  Mr.  Grig  glanced  aside.  A  glimpse 
of  paradise  had  dazzled  the  eternal  youth  in 
him.    The  waiter  bore  away  the  soup-plates. 

"Perhaps  that's  enough  about  business  for 
the  present,"  said  Mr.  Grig  at  length.  "Let's 
talk  about  something  else.  But  before  we  start 
I  must  just  tell  you  you're  the  most  stylish 
creature  in  this  restaurant.  I  was  staggered 
when  I  came  in  and  saw  you.    Staggered!" 


The  Avowal  155 


She  did  raise  her  head. 

"Why?"  she  asked  with  exquisite  gentleness. 

Mr.  Grig,  overwhelmed,  offered  no  re- 
sponse. 

As  for  her  determination,  it  amounted  to 
this :  "I  will  be  as  marvellous  as  he  is.  I  will 
be  more  marvellous.  I  will  be  queen,  slave, 
everything.  He  doesn't  guess  what  is  in  store 
for  him."  She  did  not  think  about  the  dif- 
ference in  their  ages,  nor  about  marriage;  nor 
did  she  even  consider  whether  or  not  she  was 
in  love  with  him.  Chiefly,  she  was  grateful. 
And  what  she  saw  in  front  of  her  was  a  sublime 
vocation.  Her  mood  was  ever  so  faintly 
tinged  with  regi-et  because  they  were  not  both 
in  evening-dress. 


VIII 
PHILOSOPHY  OF  THE  GREY-HAIRED 

THE  evening  and  all  Lilian's  emotions 
seemed  to  start  afresh.  The  look  of  the 
restaurant  was  changed.  The  tables  had  been 
cleared  of  the  grosser  apparatus  of  eating,  and 
showed  white  cloths  with  only  white  plates, 
fruit,  small  glasses,  small  cups,  ash-trays. 
Most  of  the  waiters  had  vanished;  the  re- 
mainder stood  aside,  moveless,  inobtrusive, 
watchful.  The  diners  had  abandoned  them- 
selves to  intimacy  or  the  sweet  coma  of  diges- 
tion. Some  talked  rather  loudly,  others  in  a 
murmur.  Women  leaned  back,  or  put  their 
elbows  on  the  table,  letting  cigarette  smoke 
float  upwards  across  their  eyes.  A  few  tables 
were  already  deserted,  and  the  purity  of  their 
emptiness  seemed  baffiingly  to  demonstrate 
that  events  may  happen  and  leave  behind  ab- 
solutely no  trace.  Without  consulting  Lilian 
Mr.  Grig  gave  an  order  and  two  small  glasses 

156 


Philosophy  of  the  Grey-Haired  157 

were  slowly  filled  to  the  brim  with  a  green 
liquid.  Lilian  recognised  it  for  the  very  sym- 
bol of  delicate  licence.  She  was  afraid  to  sip, 
lest  she  might  be  disillusioned  concerning  it, 
and  also  lest  the  drinking  of  it  might  malignly 
hasten  the  moment  of  departure  of  the  last 
train  for  Brighton. 

Mr.  Grig  was  of  those  who  murmured.  His 
wrists  lay  one  over  the  other  on  the  table  and 
his  face  was  over  the  table;  and  it  seemed 
strange,  so  low  and  even  was  his  speech,  that 
Lilian  could  catch  every  word,  as  she  did.  The 
people  at  the  next  table  could  have  heard  noth- 
ing. All  the  animation  and  variety  were  in  his 
features,  none  in  his  tone.  He  had  been  tell- 
ing her  about  Brighton.  He  saw  the  town 
of  Brighton  as  a  living,  developing  whole, 
discussing  it  as  a  single  organism,  showing  how 
its  evolution  was  still  in  active  process,  and 
making  the  small  gi'oup  of  men  who  were  ex- 
ploiting it  and  directing  it  appear  like  creative 
giants  and  the  mass  of  inhabitants  like  midgets 
utterly  unconscious  of  their  own  manipulation. 
And  in  his  account  of  the  vast  affair  there  was 
no  right  and  no  wrong;  there  were  merely  the 


158  Lilian 

dark  aims  and  the  resolution  of  the  giants  de- 
termined to  wax  in  power  and  to  imprint  them- 
selves on  t^  e  municipality.  Lilian  had  never 
heard  such  reveahng  talk ;  she  could  not  follow 
all  of  it,  but  she  was  fascinated,  wonderstruck ; 
profoundly  impressed  by  the  quahty  of  the 
brain  opposite  to  her  and  the  contemptibleness 
of  her  own  ignorance  of  life;  amazed  and  en- 
raptured that  this  brain  could  be  interested 
in  herself.  Mr.  Grig  related  the  story  of  the 
middle-aged  proprietor  of  one  of  the  chief 
hotels  who  had  married  a  young  wife. 

"He  had  broken  up  his  family,  and  the 
family  is  the  real  unit  of  society — and  there 
was  no  need  for  it !  No  need  at  all !  But  then 
you  see  he'd  never  had  time  in  his  existence 
to  understand  that  a  middle-aged  man  who 
has  already  had  experience  of  marriage  and 
marries  a  girl  young  enough  to  be  his  daughter 
is  either  a  coward  or  a  fool  or  without  taste. 
He  would  only  do  it  because  he's  mad  for  her, 
and  that's  the  very  reason  for  not  doing  it. 
When  romance  comes  in  that  way  it  wants  the 
sauce  of  secrecy  and  plottii  g, — the  double  life 
and   so   on.      The    feeling   of   naughtiness — 


Philosophy  of  the  Grey-Haired  159 

naughtiness  is  simply  a  marvellous  feeling; 
you  must  sometimes  have  guessed  that,  haven't 
you? — perversity,  doing  society  in  the  eye. 
It's  a  continual  excitement.  Of  course  it  needs 
cleverness,  on  both  sides.  You  haven't  got  to 
be  clumsy  over  it.  The  woman  runs  risks,  but 
nothing  to  the  risks  she'd  run  in  marriage. 
And  if  the  thing  dies  out  in  her,  and  they 
haven't  been  clumsy,  she's  free  as  air  to  start 
again.  She's  got  her  experience  gratis,  and 
there's  a  mysterious  flavour  about  her  that's 
nearly  the  most  enticing  flavour  on  earth. 
Naturally  people  will  talk.  Let  'em.  No 
harm  in  rumour.  In  fact  the  more  rumour  the 
better."  He  went  on  with  no  pause.  "You've 
not  looked  at  me  for  about  five  hours.  Look 
at  me  now  and  tell  me  you're  disgusted.  Tell 
me  you're  frightened." 

She  lifted  her  eyes  and  gazed  at  him  for  a 
few  seconds,  not  smihng.  Her  skin  tingled 
and  crept.  Then  she  sipped  the  creme  de 
menthe  and  at  first  it  tasted  just  like  water. 

"A  woman  wants  making.  Only  a  man  can 
make  a  woman.  She  has  to  be  formed.  She 
can't  do  it  herself.    A  young  man  may  be  able 


l6o  Lilian 

to  do  it,  but  he's  like  a  teacher  who  swots  up 
the  night  before  what  he  has  to  teach  the  next 
day.  And  he's  a  fearful  bungler,  besides  being 
cruel — unconsciously.  Whereas  an  older 
man,  a  much  older  man — he  knows!  It's  a 
unique  chance  for  both  of  them.  She  has  so 
much  to  give,  and  she  has  so  much  to  learn. 
It's  a  fair  bargain.  Perhaps  the  woman  has  a 
little  the  best  of  it.  Because  after  all  she  loses 
nothing  that  it  isn't  her  business  to  lose, — and 
the  man  may,  well,  he  may  kill  himself.  And 
the  chance  for  a  clever  girl  to  be  'made'  with- 
out any  clumsiness!  What  a  chance!  .  .  . 
Well,  I  won't  say  which  of  'em  has  the  best 
of  it.  ...  I'm  speaking  impartially.  If  you 
live  to  be  as  old  as  Ninon  de  I'Enclos  you'll 
never  meet  a  more  honest  man  than  I  am." 

Lillian  felt  intoxicated,  but  not  with  the 
Burgundy  nor  with  the  creme  de  menthe. 
Rather  with  sudden  fresh  air.  She  thought: 
"Be  careful!  Be  careful!  You  aren't  your- 
self. Something  queer's  come  over  you."  She 
was  not  happy.  She  was  alarmed.  Once  be- 
fore she  had  been  alarmed  by  herself,  but  this 
time  she  was  really  alarmed.     She  was  glad 


Philosophy  of  the  Grey-Haired  i6i 

that  she  had  always  despised  boys  of  her  own 
age.  What  did  Mr.  Grig  mean  by  saying  that 
a  man  might  kill  himself?  She  didn't  know. 
.  .  .  Yes,  she  knew.  .  .  .  She  saw  clearly  that 
a  woman  must  be  formed  by  a  man,  and  that 
until  she  was  formed  she  would  not  be  worthy 
of  herself.  She  longed  ardently  to  be  formed. 
As  she  stood  she  was  futile.  She  could  exer- 
cise no  initiative,  make  use  of  no  opportunities ; 
and  her  best  wisdom  was  to  remain  negative — 
in  order  to  avoid  mistakes.  Something  that 
looked  like  a  woman  but  wasn't  one.  She  had 
the  intelligence  to  realize  how  insipid  she  was. 
Ambition  surged  through  her  anew  and  with 
fresh  power. 

Mr.  Grig  drove  her  home,  and  the  taxi  was 
a  little  dark  vibrating  room  in  which  they  were 
alone  together,  and  safe  from  all  scrutiny. 
She  was  painfully  constrained. 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Grig,  after  an  interminable 
silence.     "My  sister  was  quite  right." 

"What  about?"  Lilian  asked  in  a  child's 
voice. 

"I'm  in  love.  What  are  you  going  to  do 
about  it?"     He  turned  his  head  impulsively 


l62  Lilia 


n 


towards  her,  gazed  at  her  in  the  dim  twihght 
of  the  taxi,  and  then  kissed  her.  In  spite  of 
herself  she  yearned  to  give,  and  the  yearning 
thrilled  her. 

"Please!  Please!"  she  murmured  in  modest, 
gentle,  passive  protest. 

Another  pause. 

"I  shall  write  to  you  to-morrow,"  he  said. 
"In  the  meantime,  beheve  me  you're  entirely 
marvellous."  He  was  looking  straight  in  front 
of  him  at  the  driver's  shaggy  shoulders.  That 
was  all  that  occurred,  except  the  handshake. 

When  she  let  herself  into  the  house  the 
servant  was  just  going  upstairs  to  bed,  after 
her  usual  sixteen-hour  day. 

"So  you're  back,  miss." 

"No!"  thought  Lilian.  "It's  somebody  else 
that's  come  back.  The  girl  you  mean  will 
never  come  back." 


PART  THREE 


Part  Three 


IN  THE  HOTEL 

FELIX  came  quietly  through  the  com- 
municating door  into  LiHan's  shuttered 
and  close  room.  Between  the  two  bedrooms 
was  a  bathroom.  All  the  bedrooms  in  the  hotel 
seemed  to  be  designed  on  the  same  plan — too 
high,  too  long,  too  narrow;  with  the  head  of 
the  bed  behind  the  door  and  directly  facing  the 
window ;  a  wardrobe,  a  dressing-table,  a  wash- 
stand,  a  writing  table,  an  easy  chair  (under 
the  window),  two  cane  chairs,  a  night-table, 
and  two  electric  lights  so  devilishly  arranged 
that  they  could  not  be  persuaded  to  burn  simul- 
taneously ;  a  carpet  overgrown  with  huge,  gor- 
geous flowers,  and  the  walls  overgrown  with 
huge,  gorgeous  flowers  of  another  but  equally 
mirific  plant.  Outside  the  bedroom  a  bell 
rang  at  short  intervals — all  the  guests  in  the 

165 


1 66  Lilii 


tan 


neighbourhood  performed,  according  to  their 
idiosyncrasies,  on  the  same  bell — and  slippered 
feet  of  servants  rushing  to  and  fro  in  the  cor- 
ridor shook  the  planks  of  Lilian's  room  as  they 
passed. 

Amid  the  obscurity  of  the  room  Lilian's 
curved  form,  lying  heaped  on  its  side,  and 
rather  hke  a  miniature  mountain  that  sloped 
softly  down  towards  the  head  and  towards  the 
feet,  could  be  vaguely  deciphered  in  the  bed; 
and  hillocks  of  attire,  some  pale,  others  col- 
oured, some  fragile  and  diaphanous — others 
resistant  to  the  world's  peering,  lay  dimly 
about  on  chairs  and  even  on  the  writing-table. 
The  air,  exhausted  by  the  night,  had  a  faint 
and  delicate  odour  that  excited,  but  did  not 
offend,  Felix's  nostrils. 

"Is  it  time  to  get  up?"  Lilian  murmured 
in  the  voice  of  sleepy  child. 

"No." 

Her  brain  slowly  came  to  life.  Flitting  in 
and  out  of  her  happiness  there  were  transient 
apprehensions — not  about  the  morality  but 
about  the  security  of  her  situation.  They  dis- 
appeared, all  except  one,  as  soon  as  she  looked 


In  the  Hotel  167 

firmly  at  them,  because  she  had  the  most  per- 
fect confidence  in  Felix's  good  faith.  The 
unity  of  the  pair  had  begun  in  London,  under 
conditions  provided  by  Felix,  who,  however, 
did  not  care  for  them,  and  who  had  decided 
that  he  would  take  her  away  for  a  holiday  in 
order  that  they  might  both  reflect  upon  and 
discuss  at  length  the  best  method  of  organizing 
a  definite  secret  existence. 

It  was  during  the  preliminaries  to  the  de- 
parture that  she  had  been  specially  struck  by 
his  straightforwardness.  He  would  have  no 
wangling  with  passports.  She  must  travel  as 
herself.  She  could  think  of  no  acquaintance 
qualified  to  sign  the  application  for  her  pass- 
port. It  was  Felix's  suggestion  that  she 
should  go  to  the  Putney  doctor  who  had  at- 
tended her  father  and  mother.  The  pair  had 
travelled  separately  on  the  same  train  de  luxe, 
for  which,  with  Felix's  money,  she  bought  her 
own  ticket.  The  cost  of  the  ticket  and  the 
general  expensiveness  of  the  purchases  which 
FeHx  insisted  on  her  making  had  somewhat 
frightened  her.  He  reassured  her  by  preach- 
ing the  relativity  of  all  things.     "You  must 


i68  Lil 


tan 


alter  your  scale — it  needs  only  an  effort  of 
the  imagination,"  he  had  said;  and  explained 
to  her  his  financial  status.  She  learned  that 
he  had  an  independent  income,  and  his  sister 
another,  though  much  smaller,  independent 
income,  and  that  the  typewriting  business  was 
a  diversion,  though  a  remunerative  one;  also 
that  an  important  cash  bonus  just  received 
from  an  insurance  policy  enabled  him  to  be 
profuse  without  straining  his  ordinary  re- 
sources. 

She  had  trembled  at  the  reception-office  of 
the  great  hotel,  but  Felix,  laughing  at  her 
fears,  accomplished  all  formalities  for  her 
quite  openly,  and  indeed  the  discreet  incuri- 
osity of  the  hotel  officials  fully  confirmed  the 
soundness  of  his  attitude.  Ignoring  the  descrip- 
tion on  the  passport,  he  had  told  her  to  sign  as 
"Madame,"  and  he  threw  out  neghgently  that 
she  was  his  cousin.  This  was  his  sole  guile. 
Before  going  upstairs  he  had  written  out  a 
telegram  and  shown  it  to  her.  It  was  to  his 
sister,  to  say  that  he  had  arrived  safely  and 
sent  his  love.  "She  has  to  be  deceived,"  he 
murmured,  "but  she's  got  to  be  treated  de- 


In  the  Hotel  169 

cently.  It  was  all  I  could  do  to  keep  her  from 
coming  to  see  me  off  at  Victoria!"  He  smiled. 
Lilian  was  impressed.  When  Lilian  found 
that  Felix's  bedroom  stood  next  to  her  bath- 
room her  anxieties  were  renewed.  Felix 
laughed  again,  and  rang,  for  the  door  between 
the  bathroom  and  the  bedroom  was  locked. 
In  a  few  minutes  a  dark  and  stoutish  cham- 
bermaid entered  with  a  pleasant,  indulgent 
comprehending  gravity  and  unlocked  the  door. 
"What  is  your  name?"  he  asked.  "Jacqueline, 
monsieur,"  she  replied,  and  cordially  accepted 
a  twenty-franc  note  from  him.  It  was  all  so 
simple,  so  natural,  so  un-English,  so  enheart- 
ening.  In  two  hours  they  had  settled  down. 
All  the  embarrassing  preludes  to  the  closest 
intimacy  had  been  amply  achieved  in  London. 
Lilian  stretched  herself  voluptuously,  mur- 
mui'ed  with  a  magnificent  yawn,  "Ah!  How 
I  have  slept!"  and,  shpping  out  of  bed,  padded 
unshod  up  the  room  to  Felix,  who  sat  passive 
in  the  easy  chair.  She  took  the  bearings  of  his 
shape  in  the  gloom,  and  dropped  lightly  on 
to  his  knees. 


170  Lilian 

"What  am  I  sitting  on?"  she  exclaimed, 
startled. 

"My  newspapers." 

Touched  by  the  fact  that  he  had  been  wait- 
ing to  read  his  beloved  papers  until  she  should 
be  ready  to  rise,  she  threw  her  arms  passion- 
ately round  his  neck  and  crushed  her  face  into 
his.  Daily  it  became  clearer  to  her  that  he 
adored  her;  and  yet  she  could  scarcely  believe 
it,  because  she  felt  so  young — even  childish — 
and  so  crude  and  insipid.  She  determined 
with  a  whole-souled  resolve  that  renewed  itself 
every  hour,  to  stop  at  nothing  to  please  him. 

"Do  I  make  you  happy?"  she  whispered 
almost  inarticulately,  her  lips  being  buried  in 
his  cheek. 

"You  do." 

After  a  moment  she  sprang  up,  seized  her 
thin,  loose,  buttonless  dressing-gown,  and 
having  somehow  got  into  it,  opened  the  win- 
dow and  violently  pushed  back  the  shutters. 
Strong  sunlight  rushed  blazing  into  the  room 
like  an  army  into  a  city  long  besieged  and  at 
last  fallen.  Milhons  of  buoyant  motes  were 
revealed,  and  all  the  minutest  details  of  the 


In  the  Hot  ex,  171 

chamber.  Lilian  looked  out.  There  were  the 
shady  gardens  of  the  hotel,  the  white  prom- 
enade with  strolling  visitors  in  pale  costumes, 
the  calm  ultramarine  Mediterranean,  the 
bandstand  far  to  the  right  emitting  inaudible 
music,  the  yellow  casino,  beyond  the  casino  the 
jetty  with  its  group  of  white  yachts,  and,  dis- 
tant on  either  side,  noble  and  jagged  moun- 
tains, some  of  them  snow-capped.  Incredible! 
She  heard  Felix  moving  within  the  room,  and 
turned  her  head. 

"Darling,  what  are  you  doing?" 

"Ringing  for  your  coffee." 

"What  time  is  it?" 

"Haven't  the  least." 

"But  your  watch?" 

"Haven't  got  it  on." 

"But  you're  all  dressed." 

"Haven't  put  my  things  in  my  pockets." 

She  clasped  his  arm  and  led  him  silently 
through  the  bathroom  into  his  own  bedroom, 
and  up  to  the  night-table,  the  drawer  of  which 
she  pulled  open.  All  his  "things"  were  ar- 
ranged carefully  therein. 

"Oh!   Men  are  funny!"  she  laughed. 


172  Lilian 

The  number  and  the  variety  of  the  articles 
they  carried  in  their  innumerable  pockets! 

"I  will  put  your  things  in  your  pockets,"  she 
said,  and  began  to  do  so. 

"Wrong!"  he  would  protest  from  time  to 
time;  but  he  would  give  no  positive  direction, 
and  she  had  to  discover  the  proper  pocket  by 
experiment.  It  was  a  most  wonderful  opera- 
tion, and  it  deliciously  illustrated  the  exotic, 
incomprehensible,  exquisite  curiousness  of 
men.  She  was  proud  of  having  thought  of  it, 
and  proud  of  the  pleasure  in  his  face.  As 
she  glanced  at  the  watch  her  brow  puckered. 

"I  shall  be  frightfully  late!" 

"It  is  impossible  to  be  late  where  time  does 
not  exist." 

"Is  that  Jacqueline  with  my  coffee?"  she 
said,  listening,  and  ran  back  to  her  room,  pull- 
ing him  after  her. 

Yes,  she  admitted  she  was  a  perfect  child, 
but  she  could  not  help  it.  While  she  drank 
the  coffee  he  put  on  his  eyeglasses  and  opened 
the  newspapers,  one  English,  one  French. 
She  went  into  the  bathroom. 

"Felix!  Felix!"  she  called  presently  from 


In  the  Hotel  173 

the  bathroom.  "Bring  me  in  that  soft  towel 
I've  left  on  the  chair  by  the  writing-table." 

Then  she  returned  to  the  bedroom  and  did 
her  abundant  glossy  chestnut  hair,  and  by 
innumerable  small  stages  dressed.  He  was 
reading  his  papers,  but  she  knew  that  he  was 
also  watching  her,  and  she  loved  him  to  watch 
her  dress,  from  the  first  stage  to  the  last.  She 
was  too  young  to  have  anything  to  conceal, 
and  his  pleasure,  which  he  tried  to  mask,  was 
so  obvious.  He  dropped  The  Tiines  and 
turned  to  the  French  paper. 

"Felix,  do  you  know  what?" 

"What?" 

"I'm  frightfully  ashamed  of  not  being  able 
to  speak  French.  If  I  could  only  speak  it  a 
quarter  as  well  as  you  do." 

"That's  nothing.  I  couldn't  say  two  words 
without  a  Frenchman  knowing  instantly  that 
I  wasn't  French." 

"But  you  can  talk  it  so  quickly.  Couldn't 
I  have  someone  in  here  every  morning  to  teach 
me  for  an  hour?  People  do.  I  could  get  up 
earlier." 

"Certainly  not,"  Felix  replied.    "If  you  did 


174  Lilian 

you'd  have  something  to  be  late  for.  You'd 
bring  time  into  existence  and  spoil  everything. 
Besides,  learning  French  is  hard  work.  You 
wouldn't  learn  it  by  instinct,  as  you  learn 
clothes.  And  you  aren't  here  for  hard  work. 
Learn  French  by  all  means,  but  not  in  this 
place.  London's  the  place  for  hard  work.  Ex- 
ercise your  sense  of  the  fitness  of  things,  my 
clever  girl." 

She  didn't  fully  understand  this  philosophy, 
but  she  accepted  it  admiringly. 

"What  dress  would  you  like  me  to  wear, 
darling?"     She  was  at  the  wardrobe. 

"That  white  one." 

"Then  I  shall  have  to  change  my  stockings." 

"Well,  the  yellow  one  then.  It  doesn't 
matter." 

"Of  course  it  matters,"  she  said  with  ear- 
nestness, sitting  down  religiously,  fanatically, 
to  change  her  stockings.  "Don't  you  know 
that  I  don't  want  anything  in  the  world  except 
to  please  you?  I  only  wanted  to  learn  French 
so  you  shouldn't  have  to  be  ashamed  of  me." 


II 

THE  BIG  YACHT 

AFTER  lunching  to  music  beneath  a  vast 
parasol  in  the  hotel  garden,  which  looked 
like  a  tented  field,  they  were  bowed  away  by 
servitors  in  black  and  white  and  bowed  into 
the  hotel  by  servitors  in  blue  and  gold,  and 
bowed  along  the  central  artery  of  the  hotel  by 
apprentice-servitors  in  scarlet,  and  bowed  out 
of  the  hotel  again  on  to  the  promenade  by 
servitors  in  blue  and  gold.  It  was  half -past 
two;  the  glorious  sun  was  already  slipping 
down;  they  had  done  absolutely  nothing,  and 
yet  they  had  not  wasted  a  moment ;  and  on  the 
faces  of  all  the  many-coloured  servitors  there 
was  the  smiling  assurance  that  they  had  been 
admirably  exerting  themselves  in  full  correct- 
ness, and  had  not  a  moment  to  waste  if  they 
honestly  desired  to  pursue  idleness  as  idleness 
ought  to  be  pursued.  Indeed,  the  winter  day 
was  too  short  for  the  truly  conscientious. 

il75 


176  Lilian 

"Your  little  fur?"  exclaimed  Felix,  who  was 
wearing  his  overcoat ;  he  stopped. 

"But,  darling,  I'm  far  too  hot  as  it  is!" 

"In  an  hour  the  day  will  be  gone,"  said  he, 
and  insisted  on  the  treachery  of  the  climate. 

He  frequently  insisted  on  the  treachery  of 
the  climate.  If  he  happened  to  cough  ever 
so  slightly,  he  would  say  that  the  entire  Riviera 
was  bad  for  the  throat  and  that  a  sore  throat 
was  the  most  dangerous  complaint  known  to 
man.  Lilian  indulgently  thought  him  fussy 
about  her  health  and  his  own  and  the  awful 
menaces  of  the  exquisite  climate;  but  she  did 
not  attribute  his  fussiness  to  his  age;  she  re- 
garded him  as  merely  happening  to  be  a  bit 
fussy  on  certain  matters.  Nor  did  she  regret 
the  fussiness,  for  it  gave  her  new  occasions  to 
please  him  and  (in  her  heart)  to  condescend 
femininely  towards  liim. 

"I  shan't  need  it " 

"Please!  I'll  fetch  it,  and  I'll  carry  it.  No! 
you  stay  there." 

"But  do  you  know  where  it  is,  FeHx?" 

"I  know  where  it  is."  His  voice  had  become 
very  firm,  and  somewhat  tyrannic. 


The  Big  Yacht  177 

She  stood  on  the  pavement,  put  up  her 
orange  sunshade,  and  mused  contentedly  up- 
on his  prodigious  care  for  her — proof  of  his 
passionate  attachment.  People  were  passing 
in  both  directions  all  the  time  on  the  broad 
digue  beyond  the  roadway.  Some  strolled  in 
complete  possession  of  idleness ;  others  hurried 
after  it,  with  tools  such  as  tennis  rackets  to 
help  them.  Nearly  all,  men  and  women,  stared 
at  her  as  they  passed,  until  at  length  she  turned 
round  and  faced  the  revolving  door  of  the 
hotel. 

"Oh!  Thanh  you,  dearest,  you're  spoihng 
me  horribly.    Do  let  me  take  it." 

"I  will  not.  Of  course  I'm  spoiling  you. 
That  is  what  you're  here  for.  Your  highest 
duty  in  life  is  to  be  spoiled.  Let's  go  on  the 
Mole." 

They  set  off.  A  dark  man,  overdressed  in 
striped  flannels,  nearly  stood  still  at  the  sight 
of  Lilian,  gazing  at  her  as  though  he  had  paid 
five  francs  for  the  right  to  do  so. 

"My  goodness!"  she  muttered.  "How  they 
do  stare  here!" 

"Why  grudge  them  harmless  enjoyment?" 


178  Lilian 

Felix  observed.  "You're  giving  pleasure  to 
every  man  that  looks  at  you,  and  envy  to  most 
of  the  women.  You're  fulfilling  a  very  valu- 
able function  in  the  world.  If  anyone  is  justi- 
fied in  objecting,  I  am,  and  I  don't  object. 
On  the  contrary,  I'm  as  proud  of  the  staring 
as  if  I'd  created  you.  There's  nothing  to  beat 
you  on  this  coast,  with  your  ingenuous  Eng- 
lish style  of  beauty,  and  half  the  pretty  women 
here  would  sell  their  souls  to  look  as  innocent 
as  you  look,  believe  me!" 

Lihan  said  nothing  in  reply.  The  fact  was 
that  the  man  simply  could  not  open  his  mouth 
without  giving  her  more  to  think  about  than 
she  could  manage. 

At  the  quay  they  examined  all  the  yachts, 
big  and  little,  that  were  moored  stern  on  side 
by  side.  There  were  three  large  steam  yachts, 
and  the  largest  of  the  three,  with  two  decks 
and  a  navigating  deck,  all  white  and  gold  and 
mahogany  and  bunting  and  flowers  and  flut- 
tering awnings,  overpoweringly  dominated  the 
port.  Felix  stopped  and  stared  at  the  glint- 
ing enormity. 


The  Big  Yacht  179 

"Is  that  only  a  yacht?"  Lilian  cried.  "Why! 
It's  bigger  than  the  Channel  steamer!" 

"No!"  said  Fehx,  "but  she's  the  fourth  larg- 
est yacht  in  the  world.  That's  the  celebrated 
Qita.  Crew  of  eighty  odd.  She  came  in  last 
night  for  stores,  and  she's  leaving  again  to- 
night, going  to  Naples.  And  here  are  the 
stores,  you  may  depend."  A  lorry  loaded 
with  cases  of  wine  drove  up. 

"But  it's  all  like  a  fairy  tale,"  said  Lilian. 

"Yes,  it  is.  And  so  are  you.  You  see,  the 
point  is  that  she's  just  about  the  finest  of  her 
kind.  And  so  are  you.  She  costs  more  than 
you  to  run,  of  course.  A  machine  like  that 
can't  be  run  on  less  than  a  thousand  pounds 
a  week.    Come  along.    Who's  staring  now?" 

"A  thousand  pounds  a  week!"  Lilian  mur- 
mured, aghast.  Her  imagination  resembled 
that  of  a  person  who,  on  reaching  a  summit 
which  he  has  taken  for  the  top  of  the  range, 
sees  far  higher  peaks  beyond.  And  the  con- 
viction that  those  distant  peaks  were  unattain- 
able saddened  her  for  a  moment.  "It's  abso- 
lutely awful." 

"Why  awful?     If  you  have  the  finest  you 


i8o  Lilian 

must  pay  for  it.  A  thousand  a  week's  nothing 
to  that  fellow.  Moreover,  he's  a  British  citi- 
zen and  he  did  splendid  service  for  his  country 
in  the  war.  Among  other  things  he  owns  two 
of  the  best  brands  of  champagne.  The  War 
Office  gave  him  a  commission  and  a  car;  and 
he  travelled  all  over  Europe  selling  his  own 
champagne  at  his  own  price  to  officers'  messes. 
After  all,  officers  couldn't  be  expected  to  fight 
without  the  drinks  they're  accustomed  to, 
could  they?" 

Lilian  obscurely  divined  irony.  She  often 
wished  that  she  could  be  ironical  and  amusing, 
as  Felix  was;  but  she  never  could.  She 
couldn't  conceive  how  it  was  done 

They  reached  the  Mole,  which  was  quite 
deserted,  being  off  the  map  of  correctness, 
and  surveyed  the  entire  scene — ships,  blue 
water,  white  hotels,  casino,  villas,  green 
wooded  slopes  all  faint  in  the  haze,  and  rising 
sharply  out  the  haze  the  lofty  line  of  snow. 
In  the  immediate  foreground,  almost  under 
their  feet,  was  a  steel  collier  from  the  north. 
Along  the  whole  length  of  the  ships  carts  were 
drawn  up  and  cranes  were  creaking,  and  grimy 


The  Big  Yacht  i8i 


ragged  men  hurried  sweating  to  drop  basket- 
fuls  of  coal  into  the  carts,  and  full  carts  were 
always  departing  and  empty  carts  always  com- 
ing. The  activity  seemed  breathless,  feverish, 
and  without  the  possibility  of  end — so  huge 
was  the  steamer  and  so  small  were  the  pair- 
horse  carts. 

Two  yacht's  officers  passed  in  shiny  blue 
with  gilt  buttons  and  facings.     Growled  one: 

"Yes,  and  how  the  hell  do  they  expect  me  to 
keep  my  ship  clean  with  this  thing  between  me 
and  the  weather?" 

"Yes,"  agreed  the  other.  "How  in  hell  do 
they?  Why  they  don't  make  'em  unload  some- 
where else  beats  me." 

Then  Felix  and  Lilian  turned  seawards 
and  watched  the  everlasting  patience  of  the 
fishers  on  the  rocks  below. 

"Better  put  your  fur  on,"  said  Felix  sud- 
denly. 

She  put  it  on. 

Returning  to  the  quay  Lilian  could  not  keep 
her  eyes  off  the  superb  yacht.  But  in  a 
moment  she  bent  them  suddenly  and  quick- 
ened her  pace. 


1 82  Lilian 

"You're  feeling  chilly,"  said  Felix  trium- 
phantly.   "The  sun's  got  behind  the  fort." 

On  the  lower  deck  of  the  yacht,  under  an 
awning  and  amid  easy  chairs  and  cushions,  she 
had  seen  a  tall  man  earnestly  engaged  in  con- 
versation with  a  young  and  pretty  girl.  She 
thought  the  man  was  Lord  Mackworth.  She 
felt  sure  it  was  Lord  Mackworth.  She  wanted 
to  turn  her  head  and  make  certain,  but  she 
dared  not  lest  he  should  see  her.  She  was 
blushing.  There  was  nothing  whatever  in  the 
brief  relations  between  Lord  Mackworth  and 
herself  to  which  the  slightest  exception  could 
be  taken  by  the  strictest  moralist.  Yet  she  was 
blushing.  She  blushed  because  of  the  dreams 
she  had  once  had  concerning  him.  Her  old, 
forgotten  thoughts,  which  nobody  on  earth 
could  ever  have  guessed,  made  her  into  a  kind 
of  criminal.  It  was  very  strange.  Perhaps 
also  she  feared  a  little  what  Lord  Mackworth 
might  think  of  her  if  he  saw  her  in  that  place, 
in  those  clothes,  with  a  man  much  older  than 
herself.  How  inexpressibly  fortunate  that  the 
yacht  was  leaving  that  night !  Instead  of  look- 
ing over  her  shoulder  at  Lord  Mackworth,  she 


The  Big  Yacht  183 

looked  over  her  shoulder  at  Felix,  to  reassure 
herself  about  her  deep  fondness  for  him,  and 
about  his  reliability  in  even  the  greatest  crises. 

"I  love  him,"  she  reflected,  "because  he  is  so 
marvellously  clever  and  kind  and  dependable 
and  just,  and  because  he  worships  me — I  don't 
know  why." 

But  she  was  devoted  to  him  because  he  had 
picked  her  out  of  a  batch  and  opened  her  eyes 
to  the  apple  on  the  tree  and  made  her  eat  it, 
and  because  she  had  worked  and  watched  and 
suffered  for  him  in  the  office,  and  been  cast 
out  of  the  office  for  him,  and  because  of  a 
funny  enigmatic  look  in  his  wrinkled  eyes. 
She  would  have  liked  him  just  the  same  if  he 
had  been  cruel  and  undependable  and  had  not 
worshipped  her.  And  she  desired  ardently  to 
be  still  more  and  more  beautiful  and  luxurious 
for  him,  and  more  and  more  to  be  stared  at 
for  him,  and  to  render  him  still  happier  and 
happier.  She  was  magnificently  ready  to  kill 
him  with  bliss. 

After  several  hundred  yards  she  turned 
round  and  looked  at  the  yacht.     No  figures 


184  Lilian 

-— ^ 

were  distinguishable  now  on  the  deck.     She 
thought  captiously: 

"I  wonder  who  that  doll  was  and  what  they 
were  talking  about  with  their  heads  so  close 
together." 


Ill 

THE  CASINO 

LILIAN,  in  a  negligee,  was  somnolently 
stretched  out  in  the  easy  chair  in  her  room 
when  Felix  peeped  in.  He  looked  at  her 
inquiringly  in  silence  for  a  moment,  and  she 
gave  him  a  hazy  smile. 

"Oh!"  he  said.  "Then  you  won't  feel  like 
going  into  the  Casino  to-night  after  all?" 

"Nothing  to  stop  me,"  she  rephed,  with  a 
pecuhar  intonation,  light  and  yet  anxious. 

"Hurrah!"  exclaimed  FeHx  very  gaily,  al- 
most boyishly.     "Then  we'll  go." 

The  apprehension  which  now  for  two  days 
had  been  eating  like  a  furtive  cancer  into  her 
mind  suddenly  grew  and  contaminated,  the 
whole  of  her  consciousness;  she  could  not  un- 
derstand his  levity,  for  she  had  not  concealed 
from  him  the  sinister  misgiving. 

"Yes!"  she  murmured  with  a  sort  of  charm- 
ing and  victimised  protest.     "That's  all  very 

well,  but "    And  she  stopped,  and  the  smile 

expired  from  her  face. 

185 


1 86  Lilian 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  gave  a  short, 
affectionate,  humouring  laugh,  and  said  with 
kind  superiority,  utterly  positive : 

"What  have  I  told  you?  The  thing's  abso- 
lutely imposs!" 

And  just  as  suddenly  she  was  quite  reas- 
sured and  the  apprehension  vanished  away. 
It  could  not  exist  against  his  perfect  certitude. 
She  lit  up  a  new  smile. 

"Look  here,"  he  went  on,  "we'll  dine  in  the 
Casino  if  we  can.  Of  course  every  blessed 
table  may  be  booked,  but  I'll  have  a  try." 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later,  when  she  had 
begim  to  dress,  he  returned  with  the  exciting 
information  that,  at  precisely  the  right  instant, 
somebody  had  telephoned  to  countermand  an 
inside  table  and  he  had  secured  it. 

They  arrived  verj^  late  in  the  Casino  restau- 
rant, yet  more  diners  came  after  them  than 
had  come  before,  so  that  ultimately  it  would 
have  been  difficult  to  draw  a  straight  line  be- 
tween dinner  and  supper.  The  stars  in  the 
arched  firmament  of  the  vast  and  lofty  hall 
challenged  the  stars  of  heaven  in  number  and 
splendour,  and  seemed  to  win  easily.     Light 


The  Casino  187 


fell  in  glittering  floods  on  the  flowered  tables 
and  on  the  shoulders  of  the  women.  In  the 
centre  of  the  floor  was  an  oblong  parquet  sa- 
cred to  dancing.  The  band,  in  which  English- 
men and  varied  dagoes  were  mingled,  sat, 
clothed  apparently  in  surplices,  on  a  dais 
in  a  mighty  alcove.  The  drummer  and 
the  ban  joist  each  procured  an  unnatural 
union  of  light  and  sound  by  electric  il- 
lumination of  their  instruments  from  within. 
The  leader  wore  a  battered  opera  hat,  and  at 
the  end  of  a  piece  he  would  exclaim  grimly  and 
scornfully,  "So  that's  that!"  or  "We  are  the 
goods!"  or  some  such  pharse.  Now  and  then 
the  band  overflowed  into  song,  and  the  wild 
chants  of  the  Marquesas  or  the  Fiji  Islands 
rang  riotously  through  the  correctness  of  the 
restaurant,  and  Lilian  caught  fragments  of 
significant  verse,  such  as : 

"The  rich  get  rich. 
And  the  poor  get  children, 
Ain't  we  got  fun?" 

showing  that  one  touch  of  nature  makes  the 
Southern  archipelago  the  very  sister  and  bride 
of  Europe. 


1 88  Lilian 

The  primary  mission  of  the  band  was  to 
induce  a  general  exultant  gaiety ;  and  the  mis- 
sion was  accomplished,  nobody  understood 
how.  Lilian  exulted  in  the  food,  the  wine,  the 
glitter,  the  noise,  the  wise,  humourous  face  of 
Felix,  and  the  glances  which  assailed  her  on 
every  hand.  All  care  fell  away  from  her.  She 
forgot  the  future,  the  whole  of  her  vitality  con- 
centrated itself  intensely  in  the  moment. 
Most  of  the  conversation  at  neighbouring 
tables  was  in  English,  and  it  was  all  about 
gambling,  dancing,  golf,  lawn-tennis,  polo, 
cards,  racing,  trains  de  luxe,  clothes,  hotels, 
prices,  and  women.  Even  in  the  incompre- 
hensible French  gabble  that  reached  her  she 
could  distinguish  words  like  "golf,"  and 
"bridge,"  and  "picnic." 

Then  four  elegant,  waisted,  young  men  ap- 
peared mysteriously  from  nowhere  and  ap- 
proached certain  tables  and  bowed  with  an 
assured  air,  and  instantly  four  elegant  young 
women  rose  up,  without  being  asked,  and  the 
professional  couples  began  to  display  to  the 
amateurs  the  true  art  of  the  dance.  Lilian  had 
never  seen  such  dancing. 


The  Casino  189 


"Why  are  they  all  Spanish  girls?"  she  inno- 
cently asked,  struck  by  the  rich,  dark  skin  of 
the  women. 

"They're  no  more  Spanish  than  you  are," 
said  Fehx.  "You  perceive  that  one  there. 
She's  at  our  hotel,  on  our  floor,  and  I've  seen 
her  as  blonde  as  a  Norwegian.  The  dark  olive 
is  the  result  of  strange  cosmetics,  and  a  jolly 
fine  result  too.  Nothing  finer  has  been  in- 
vented for  a  century.  It's  so  perverse.  Don't 
you  Hke  it?" 

"I  think  it's  lovely!"  she  agreed  with  enthu- 
siasm, also  with  a  vague  envy. 

Later,  when  the  senoritas  had  left  their 
partners  and  resumed  their  interrupted  meals, 
and  the  parquet  was  empty  again,  she  said : 

"I  do  really  think  it's  awful,  all  this!  It's 
so  expensive,  everything,  and  it's  all  for  pleas- 
ure. The  whole  town's  for  pleasure."  In  the 
background  she  had  a  vision  of  her  working 
life,  with  its  discipline  and  cast-iron  hours  and 
wristlets,  and  fatigue  and  privations  and 
penury.  The  click  of  the  typewriter,  the 
green-shaded  lamps,  the  Tube,  the  cold  bed- 
room, the  washing  and   sewing  done  in  the 


190  Lilian 

cold  bedroom!  The  blue  working  frock  with 
its  pathetic  red  line  of  clumsy  embroidery! 

"What  about  Margate?"  Felix  demanded 
quietly. 

She  was  nonplussed. 

"Oh!  But  that's  different!" 

"It  is.  It's  not  half  as  good.  You  must  re- 
member there's  nothing  new  in  all  this.  It's 
been  going  on  in  the  Mediterranean  for  thou- 
sands of  years,  and  it's  likely  to  go  on  for  thou- 
sands of  years  more.  It's  what  human  nature 
is.  What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?  Would 
you  abolish  luxury  and  pleasure?  Not  you. 
Do  you  imagine  that  God  created  the  shores 
of  the  Mediterranean  and  this  climate  for  any- 
thing else  but  this  ?  What  frightens  you  is  the 
tremendous  organization  and  concentration  of 
the  affair.  Nothing  else.  And  let  me  tell  you 
that  this  town  is  the  most  interesting  town 
on  the  coast  just  now.  The  fellow  that's  got 
the  new  concession  for  the  Casino  is  a  bit  of  a 
genius.  He's  moulding  the  place  into  some- 
thing fresh.  It  used  to  be  the  primmest  place 
on  earth.  He  discovered  that  the  Enghsh 
don't  want  to  be  prim  any  more;  he  showed 


The  Casino  191 


them  to  themselves.  Do  you  suppose  all  these 
women  began  to  come  here  on  their  own? 
They're  pawns  in  his  great  game.  He  brought 
them ;  but  no  nice-minded  person  asks  how,  nor 
whether  they  really  pay  for  their  meals  or 
their  rooms,  nor  how  they  manage  to  encour- 
age big  gambling  in  the  baccarat  rooms.  This 
fellow  has  put  the  wind  up  to  the  next  town 
up  the  coast;  it  used  to  be  the  most  corrupt 
town  in  the  whole  of  Europe,  that  place  used 
to  be!  And  now  the  rival  genius  there  is  in- 
troducing large  families  of  children  and  nurses 
there  in  the  hope  of  persuading  the  English 
that  they  prefer  to  be  prim  and  domestic  after 
all.  The  fact  is  these  two  geniuses  are  gam- 
bling against  one  another  for  far  bigger  stakes 
than  any  of  the  baccarat  maniacs.  It's  a  battle 
for  the  command  of  the  coast.  That's  what  it 
is.  You  don't  get  the  hang  of  it  all  at  once; 
but  you  will  in  time.    Let's  dance." 

Lilian  was  startled  by  the  invitation,  for 
they  had  not  yet  danced  together.  She  re- 
membered how  on  that  night  when  he  first 
talked  to  her  about  herself  he  had  known  that 
she  was  being  deprived  of  an  evening's  danc- 


192  Lilian 

ing.  They  stood  up  as  the  chicken  was  being 
removed.  She  smiled  at  him  with  fresh  ad- 
miration. He  had  impregnated  her  with  new 
ideas;  he  had  reassured  her;  he  had  justified 
her  enjoyment;  he  was  amazing;  he  was  mad 
about  her,  in  his  restrained  style;  and  now  he 
would  surprisingly  dance  with  her. 

Although  they  took  the  floor  early  in  the 
dance,  when  only  two  other  couples  had  begun 
to  dance,  it  was  impossible  for  her  to  be  ner- 
vous within  his  arm.  Half  the  room  gazed  at 
her,  for  she  had  attracted  attention  from  the 
first.  She  knew  that  half  the  room  was  gazing 
at  her — and  she  liked  it.  She  guessed  that  half 
the  room  was  saying:  "Look  at  that  fresh 
young  creature  who's  with  that  middle-aged 
man — she  must  be  really  very  young."  And 
she  liked  it.  She  liked  to  show  herself  with  the 
man  who  was  more  than  old  enough  to  be  her 
father,  worn  by  knowledge  and  experience  and 
the  corrupting  of  the  world;  to  contrast  her 
untried  simplicity — the  bloom  of  the  virginal 
scarcely  gone  from  it — with  his  grey  hairs  and 
his  wrinkled,  disillusioned,  passive  eyes.  She 
was  happy  in  the  thought  that  everybody  knew 


"Vli 


The  Casino  193 


that  she  must  have  given  herself  to  him,  and 
that  there  was  something  strange,  sinister,  and 
even  odious  in  her  abandonment.  He  had  used 
the  word  "perverse,"  She  did  not  wholly  un- 
derstand the  word,  but  it  appealed  to  her,  and 
for  her  it  expressed  her  mood. 

She  had  noticed,  in  the  room,  how  the 
women  no  longer  miquestionably  young  were 
more  consciously  and  carefully  charming 
towards  their  men,  receiving  adulation  but 
rendering  it  back ;  whereas  the  unquestionably 
young  were  more  negligent  and  far  more  ego- 
tistic. And  so  she  behaved  like  one  no  longer 
unquestionably  young.  She  glanced  up  at  her 
partner  with  ravishing,  ecstatic  smiles;  she 
publicly  adored  him.  And  she  was  glad  that 
her  green  and  gold  frock  with  its  long  arm- 
holes  was  not  of  the  Wigmore  Street  cut,  but 
quite  other  in  origin  and  spirit  and  in  its  effect 
upon  the  imagination. 

The  dancing  had  by  this  time  become  gen- 
eral, but  the  olive-tinted  temptresses  were  still 
prominent  in  the  throng,  and  sometimes  she 
touched  them  in  the  curves  of  the  dance.  She 
knew  where  they  beat  her  and  where  she  beat 


194 


Lil 


lan 


them.  And  it  was  vouchsafed  to  her  from  the 
eyes  of  Felix  that  she  was  lovely  and  marvel- 
lous. She  felt  intensely,  inexpressibly  happy, 
and  more  than  happy — triumphant.  Her 
quiet,  obstinate  resentment  against  the  domes- 
tic policy  of  her  father  died  out,  and  she  for- 
gave him  as  she  danced.  She  thought  with  a 
secret  sigh  almost  painful  in  its  rehef : 

"Thank  God  I  have  fulfilled  myself  and 
succeeded  not  too  late!" 

She  had  premonitions  of  power,  a  foretaste 
of  dominion.  Felix  was  hers.  She  could  in- 
fluence him.  She  could  re-make  him.  And  for 
the  thousandth  time  she  breathed  to  him  in 
her  soul:  "I  have  made  you  happy,  but  I  will 
make  you  more  happy — infinitely  more  happy. 
You  don't  know  yet  what  I  am  capable  of." 
He  danced  very  correctly  and  quite  nicely; 
rather  stiff,  of  course,  but  with  a  certain  clever 
abandonment  of  his  body  to  the  rhythm.  She 
thought:  "With  what  women  did  he  learn  to 
dance?  He  must  have  danced  a  lot.  Never 
will  I  ask!    Never!"    The  fox-trot  ended. 

As  they  were  crossing  the  floor  to  their  table 
she  saw  Lord  Mackworth  dining  with  a  man 


The  Casino  195 


older  than  himself  at  a  table  near  the  windows. 
She  sat  down  to  the  sweet.  He  had  caught 
sight  of  her  and  was  looking  at  her  fixedly. 
She  stared  at  him  for  a  moment  with  the  casu- 
ally interested  stare  of  non-recognition,  per- 
fectly executed. 

"The  yacht  hasn't  left  then,  after  all,"  she 
reflected,  and  to  Fehx:  "Did  that  big  yacht 
leave  to-night?" 

"No,"  said  Fehx,  "I  heard  they'd  changed 
their  minds."  Fehx  had  the  faculty  of  hearing 
everything. 

In  spite  of  herself,  Lilian  was  disturbed. 


IV 

CHEMIN  DE  PER 

WHEN  Felix  said  that  of  course  they 
must  visit  the  baccarat  rooms,  she 
vaguely  acquiesced.  A  mood  of  the  old  appre- 
hension had  mysteriously  succeeded  her  exul- 
tation; she  wanted  to  exorcise  it  and  couldn't. 
She  would  have  tried  to  dance  the  gloom  away, 
but  Fehx  did  not  suggest  another  dance;  she 
understood  that  he  had  danced  once  because  it 
was  proper  for  an  enlightened  amateur  of  life 
to  forego  no  sensation,  and  that  he  would  not 
dance  again  unless  asked.  She  would  not  ask. 
He  had  given  her  a  cigarette  and  a  liqueur; 
she  had  accepted  a  second  liqueur  and  then 
declined  it,  afraid  of  it  and  anxious  for  her 
reputation  in  his  eyes.  There  were  formalities 
to  accomplish  at  the  entrance  to  the  baccarat 
rooms — forms  to  be  filled  up  and  money  to  be 
paid. 

*'They  make  a  small  charge  for  emptying 

196 


Chemin  de  Fer  197 


your  pockets,"  said  Felix.    "They  pretend  to 
be  rather  particular  about  their  victims." 

The  select  rooms  were  crowded.  Every 
table  in  the  blazing  interior  had  round  it  a 
thick  ring  of  sitters  and  standers,  and  many 
people  were  walking  to  and  fro,  disappointed 
or  hopeful.  By  tiptoeing  and  supporting  her- 
self on  Fehx's  shoulder  Lilian  could  just  see 
the  green  cloth  of  a  table,  like  the  floor  of  a 
pit  whose  walls  were  bodies  elegant  in  evening 
dress.  It  was  littered  with  white,  rose,  and 
green  counters,  banknotes,  cards,  ash-trays, 
cigarette  cases,  and  vanity  bags.  More  women 
were  seated  than  men.  A  single  croupier  dom- 
inated and  ruled  the  game.  Cards  and 
counters  were  thrown  about  from  side  to  side. 

"It  seems  frightfully  exciting,"  murmured 
Lilian,  scarcely  audible,  into  the  ear  of  Felix. 

"It  is,"  said  Fehx  gruffly.  "It's  the  real 
thing,  you  know,  gambling  is.  When  people 
lose  they  lose  real  money,  and  when  they  win, 
ditto.  You  can  genuinely  ruin  yourself  here. 
There's  no  sham  about  it.  You  may  go  out 
without  even  your  fare  home."     He  offered 


198  Lilian 

these  remarks  separately,  between  consider- 
able pauses. 

"Is  baccarat  easy  to  learn?" 

"Very.  But  not  here, — and  this  isn't  bac- 
carat. This  is  chemin  de  fer — equally  easj' 
though.  I'll  get  a  pack  of  cards  at  the  hotel 
and  teach  you.  It's  chemin  de  fer  at  every 
table.  I  suppose  that's  why  they  call  the  rooms 
'baccarat'?" 

He  was  edging  nearer  the  croupier.  A  stout 
middle-aged  woman  whose  flesh  seemed  to  be 
insecurely  and  inadequately  confined  within 
frail  silk  rose  from  her  chair,  gathering  up 
bag  and  cigarette  case — all  that  remained  to 
her. 

"Sit  down  here  and  keep  the  chair  for  me," 
Felix  said  sharply,  and  pushed  Lilian  into  the 
seat. 

Everybody  gazed  at  her,  and  her  constraint 
showed  the  conviction  that  everybody  guessed 
she  had  never  sat  at  a  gaming-table  before. 
Felix  had  vanished,  and  she  was  thrown  with 
her  arresting,  innocent  beauty  upon  the  en- 
vious and  jealous  world.  He  had  gone  to  ex- 
change notes  for  counters,  but  she  did  not 


Chemin  de  Fer  199 


know.  After  a  moment  that  was  an  hour  he  re- 
turned and  took  the  seat. 

"You  stand  behind  me  and  watch,"  said  he. 
"And  when  you  get  bored  walk  about  and  see 
things  for  yourself,  and  when  you  need  moral 
support  again  come  and  put  your  hand  on  my 
chair.  I'll  stop  playing  whenever  you  tell 
me."  He  spoke  in  a  muttering  voice,  but  three 
or  four  persons  around  could  not  fail  to  catch 
every  word;  this,  however,  appeared  not  to 
trouble  him. 

Lilian  was  in  a  state  of  high  excitation,  but 
she  was  also  extremely  confused,  the  game  be- 
ing a  complete  enigma  to  her.  The  croupier 
was  continually  raking  cards  to  and  fro  and 
counters  to  and  fro,  continually  tearing  tickets 
out  of  a  book,  ripping  them  to  pieces  and 
throwing  the  pieces  behind  him,  continually 
dropping  cards  into  a  big  hole,  and  continu- 
ally dropping  counters  into  a  little  hole.  An 
official  opposite  the  croupier,  with  pockets  full 
of  counters  was  continually,  and  with  miracu- 
lous rapidity,  exchanging  rose  counters  for 
green  and  white  counters  for  rose.  The  player 
next  to  Fehx  had  a  small  table  behind  him  fur- 


200  Lilian 

nished  with  champagne  and  sandwiches,  which 
he  consumed  in  hasty  gulps  and  mouthfuls,  as 
one  who  feels  the  dread  hour  at  hand  when  no 
man  may  eat  or  drink.  The  players  ejaculated 
short  incomprehensible  words,  and  at  brief  in- 
tervals Lilian  seized  a  word  that  sounded  like 
"baunco."  She  heard  Felix  utter  the  word, 
saw  him  turn  up  two  cards  and  then  receive 
from  the  croupier's  rake  a  large  assortment  of 
green  and  rose  counters.  He  never  looked 
at  her  to  smile;  she  was  ignored,  but  she 
guessed  that  he  must  be  winning.  Soon  after- 
wards his  piles  of  counters  had  strangely 
diminished. 

The  heat  stifled  her,  and  the  odour  of  flesh 
and  tobacco  and  scent  nauseated.  She  held  no 
key  to  the  vast  and  splendid  conundrum,  un- 
less by  chance  her  fundamental  common-sense 
was  right  in  its  casual  suggestion  that  she  was 
surrounded  by  lunatics.  Yet  how  could  per- 
sons so  well-dressed,  so  sure  of  themselves,  so 
restrained  and  stylish  in  manner,  and  seem- 
ingly so  wealthy,  be  lunatics?  Impossible! 
She  grew  profoundly  and  inexplicitly  sad. 

At  length  she  walked  away,  aimless.    Felix 


Chemin  de  Fer  201 

did  not  notice  her  departure.  She  thought  it 
ahnost  certain  that  Lord  Mackworth  would 
be  somewhere  in  the  rooms;  she  desired  above 
everything  to  avoid  the  danger  incident  to 
meeting  him  face  to  face ;  but  she  walked  away. 
All  the  tables  were  the  same  as  the  table  at 
which  she  had  left  Felix — crowded,  entranced, 
self -concentrated,  and  perfectly  unintelligible ; 
and  at  every  table  the  croupier  was  continually 
dropping  counters  into  a  little  hole,  and  tear- 
ing up  tickets  and  throwing  the  fragments  be- 
hind him  on  to  the  crimson  carpet.  The  sole 
difference  between  the  tables  was  that  some 
held  more  banknotes  than  others.  The  heaps 
of  blue  thousand-franc  notes  piled  about  one 
table  caused  Lilian  to  halt  and  gaze. 

"Some  ready  there!"  said  a  very  young  man 
to  a  fierce  old  woman. 

"Ah!  But  you  should  have  seen  it  in  the 
days  of  gold  plaques  before  the  war.  You 
could  call  a  hundred  franc  gold  piece  'ready', 
then,  if  you  like."  The  old  woman  sighed 
grimly. 

Lilian  passed  on  under  their  combined  stare. 
She  glimpsed  herself  in  mirrors,  as  once  she 


202  Lilia 


n 


used  to  glimpse  herself  in  the  shop  windows  of 
Bond  Street,  and  was  satisfied  with  the  vision. 
Her  walk  was  as  remarkable  as  her  beauty. 
Yes,  she  knew  how  to  put  her  feet  on  the 
ground  and  how  to  make  her  body  float 
smoothly  and  evenly  above  the  moving  limbs. 
Her  spirit  rose  as  she  began  to  suspect  that 
no  woman  in  the  rooms  was  getting  more  no- 
tice than  herself.  Fancy  Fehx  being  absorbed 
in  his  gambling!  She  had  forgotten  Lord 
Mackworth;  she  had  decided  that  he  was  not 
in  the  rooms ;  and  then  suddenly,  sprung  from 
nothingness  like  a  ghost,  he  stood  in  her  path 
between  the  wall  and  the  end  of  a  table.  She 
was  disposed  to  retreat;  besides,  his  attention 
was  fixed  on  the  table  and  she  might  get  by 
him  unperceived.  But  just  as  she  approached 
he  turned.  Although  she  might  have  ignored 
him,  and  in  the  circumstances  was  indeed  en- 
titled to  do  so,  she  did  not  because  she  could 
not.  She  blushed,  only  shghtly,  acknowledged 
their  acquaintance  with  a  faint  smile,  then 
stopped,  but  did  not  advance  her  hand  to  meet 
his. 

"Ought    I    to    have    shaken    hands?"    she 


Chemin  de  Fer  203 

thought  anxiously.  All  her  quickly  acquired 
worldliness  of  manner  left  her  in  an  instant. 
She  was  the  typewriting  girl  again,  wearing 
the  wristlets.  He  had  all  the  physical  splen- 
dour that  she  remembered,  and  the  style,  and 
the  benignant  large-hearted  tolerance  of  an 
extensive  sinner.  As  he  looked  at  her  he  drew 
back  his  chin  and  made  several  chins  of  it  in 
just  the  same  old  way.  He  was  enormous, 
superb,  and  perfect.  And  if  not  a  boy  he  had 
real  youth;  once  more  she  had  to  contrast  his 
youth  with  Felix's  specious  sprightliness.  She 
fought  on  behalf  of  Felix  in  her  mind,  and  on 
points  Felix  won ;  but  in  her  mind  Lord  Mack- 
worth  had  supporters  which  derided  all  reason- 
ing. And  as  she  fronted  him  the  frightful 
apprehension  was  powerfully  revived  and  it 
seemed  to  be  building  a  wall  between  her  and 
the  young  man,  and  she  was  intensely  dejected 
beneath  the  brightness  of  her  demeanour. 

"Very  hot  here,  isn't  it?"  she  was  saying. 
("A  stupid  typewriting  girl  remark,"  she  re- 
flected as  it  slipped  out.) 

"A  great  change  since  I  was  here  last,  just 


204  Lilian 

before  the  war,"  said  Lord  Mackworth  gaily. 

"Warmer,  do  you  mean?" 

"No!  Much  more  cheery  now.  Jolherl" 
He  waved  a  hand  towards  the  company  in 
general. 

"Oh,  thatr  said  Lillian,  marshalling  all  her 
forces  in  a  determined  effort  to  lose  the  type- 
writing girl  in  the  woman  of  the  world.  "You 
mean  the  company."  She  shrugged  her 
shoulders,  borrowing  some  of  his  tolerance, 
"Of  course  you  know  they've  been  brought 
here  on  purpose.  It's  all  part  of  a  great  battle 
for  the  command  of  the  coast." 

The  effort  succeeded  beyond  her  hopes. 
Lord  Mackworth  was  clearly  impressed;  he 
put  questions,  which  Lilian  answered  out  of 
the  mouth  of  Felix.  Strange  that  this  man 
should  be  he  who  had  inexcusably  omitted  to 
pay  his  trumpery  bill  at  Clifford  Street,  the 
man  through  whose  unconscious  agency  she 
had  been  unjustly  cast  into  the  street!  How- 
ever, the  past  did  not  in  the  least  affect  her 
feeling  for  him.  What  she  most  vividly  re- 
called was  that  she  had  striven  to  serve  him 
and  had  served  him.    He  made  no  reference — 


Chemin  de  Fer  205 

doubtless  from  delicacy — to  the  night  of  their 
meeting ;  nor  did  he  betray  even  the  very  small- 
est surprise  at  seeing  her,  the  typewriting  girl, 
exquisitely  and  expensively  dressed,  in  the 
finest  baccarat  rooms  on  the  Riviera.  (Of 
course  she  might  be  mamed,  or  have  inherited 
a  fortune — he  could  think  as  he  chose.) 

They  went  on  talking  and  then  a  pause 
came,  and  Lord  Mackworth  said  bluntly: 

"I  saw  you  from  the  yacht  this  afternoon." 

"Oh!  What  yacht?" 

"The  Qitar 

"The  big  one?     Is  it  yours?" 

"Oh,  lord  no!  She  belongs  to  my  friend 
Macmusson — we  dined  together  here  to-night." 

"It  must  be  terribly  big.  I  suppose  you 
have  an  enormous  party  on  board?" 

"Not  a  bit.  Only  Macmusson  and  his  three 
old  aunts  and  liis  niece — adopted  daughter. 
Nobody  else." 

"That's  the  girl  you  were  making  love  to," 
Lilian's  heart  accused  him.  "She's  going  to  be 
very  rich  and  she'll  pay  all  your  family  debts. 
That's  what  it  is.  But  what  difference  does  it 
make?"   her  heart   added.     "You   are   you." 


2o6  Lilian 

And  aloud:  "I  heard  the  yacht  was  leaving 
to-night." 

"She  was.  But  I  persuaded  old  Macmus- 
son  to  stop  another  day." 

"Really!" 

"And  do  you  know  why?" 

"No." 

"Because  I  had  some  hope  of  meeting  you 
here  to-night." 

She  flushed  again.  She  saw  the  ante-room 
at  Clifford  Street  at  the  moment  when  he  came 
back  to  ask  her  to  wake  him  by  telephone.  He 
must  have  been  well  aware,  then,  that  he  had 
made  a  conquest,  because  in  the  ante-room  she 
had  not  been  able  to  hide  her  soft  emotion. 
From  that  moment  he  had  forgotten  her;  yet 
he  couldn't  have  forgotten  her.  Perhaps  he 
had  somehow  been  prevented  from  meeting 
her  in  the  meantime.  Now  at  the  mere  second 
sight  of  her  he  had  stopped  the  great  yacht  on 
the  chance  of  talking  to  her!  He  had  thrown 
over  the  young  rich  girl  at  a  single  glimpse  of 
Lilian  as  she  passed !  It  was  astounding.  But 
in  fact  she  was  not  astounded.  She  glanced  up 
at  him.     His  smooth,  handsome  red  face  was 


Chemin  de  Fer  207 

alive  with  admiration.  And  was  she  not  really 
to  be  admired,  even  by  the  Lord  Maekworths? 
Was  she  not  marvellous  ?  Did  not  all  the  com- 
pany in  the  rooms  regard  her  as  marvellous? 
She  thrilled  to  the  romance  of  the  incredible 
event.  He  was  so  young  and  big  and  strong 
and  handsome;  he  had  such  prestige  in  her 
eyes.    She  saw  visions. 

But  the  frightful  apprehension — no  longer 
a  wall,  rather  a  cloud — swallowed  up  the 
visions  and  froze  the  thrill.  Felix  held  her.  A 
gust  of  ruthless  common-sense  inspired  her  to 
say  primly: 

"It's  always  dangerous  to  give  reasons  for 
what  one's  done."  And,  nodding,  she  left  him. 
Immediately  afterwards  she  had  to  sit  down. 


IN  THE  HILLS 

WHEN  she  at  length  returned  to  Felix, 
and,  squeezing  through  the  outer  rings 
of  gladiators  against  chance,  touched  him  deli- 
cately on  the  shoulder,  he  faced  her  with  a 
bright  youthful  smile,  and  without  any  sur- 
prise— it  was  plain  to  her  that  he  had  recog- 
nized her  from  the  light  touch  of  her  iinger. 

"Do  you  want  me  to  stop?" 

She  nodded. 

He  gathered  his  counters  together  and  rose 
with  alacrity. 

"You  came  in  the  nick  of  time,"  he  said. 
"But  of  course  you  would!  I've  been  playing 
wild  and  I've  made  a  thousand  francs  into 
rather  more  than  six  thousand.  It  was  the 
very  moment  to  flee  from  the  WTath  that  was 
coming.  Let's  run,  run,  to  the  change  desk 
before  I  change  my  mind  and  decide  to  begin 
to  lose.     That's  the  only  insurance — getting 

208 


In  the  Hills  209 


rid  of  the  counters,  because  when  you've  got 
rid  of  'em  you're  too  ashamed  with  yourself 
to  get  more." 

He  was  quite  uphfted,  so  gaily  preoccupied 
with  his  achievement  that  he  noticed  nothing 
strange  in  her  mien.  She  was  glad  that  he 
noticed  nothing;  and  yet  also  she  was  sorry; 
she  would  have  liked  him,  after  a  single  glance 
at  her,  to  have  said  in  his  curt,  quiet,  assured 
manner:  "What's  wrong?" 

She  kept  thinking,  but  not  of  Felix:  "He 
must  be  very  fickle  and  capricious.  I'm  cer- 
tain he  was  making  love  to  her.  He  happens 
to  see  me  and  off  he  runs  after  me !  He  can't 
be  any  good,  with  his  debts  and  things.  I  was 
right  to  give  him  the  bird.  But  he's  terribly 
nice,  and  I  don't  care.  I  don't  know  what  on 
earth's  the  matter  with  me.  I  think  I  must  be 
a  bit  mad,  and  always  was.  If  I  wasn't,  should 
I  be  here?" 

Transiently  she  viewed  herself  as,  for  ex- 
ample, Gertie  Jackson  would  have  viewed  her. 
And  then  she  saw  another  and  a  worse  self  and 
viewed  that  other  self  as  Lilian  the  staid  and 
constant  friend  of  Felix  would  naturally  view 


210  Lilian 

such  an  abandoned  girl.  She  was  afraid  of 
and  disgusted  by  the  possibilities  discovered 
in  the  depths  of  her  own  mind. 

At  the  desk  the  dancing  girl  whom  Felix 
had  indicated  as  inhabiting  their  hotel  hurried 
up  passionately  and  forestalled  them.  She 
threw  down  two  green  counters,  as  it  were  in 
anger. 

"Can  I  play  with  that!"  she  exclaimed  in 
cockney  English.  The  changer  handed  her 
two  hundred  franc  notes,  which  she  crumpled 
in  her  hand. 

"I  must  find  a  hundred  thousand  francs 
from  somewhere!"  she  cried,  departing.  She 
was  talking  to  herself.  As  she  moved  away  a 
stout,  oldish  man  with  a  thick  lower  lip,  pearl 
studs  in  his  shirt-front,  and  a  gleaming  white 
waistcoat  joined  her,  and  they  disappeared 
together. 

Lilian  stared  after  her  in  amazement. 
Felix's  winnings  suddenly  seemed  very  insig- 
nificant. Still  when  he  received  six  fine  fresh 
thousand-franc  notes,  besides  some  small  notes, 
in  exchange  for  valueless  discs,  and  handed  to 
her  one  of  the  five  fresh  notes — "That's  for 


In  the  Hills  2ii 

saving  me  from  myself!" — she  was  impressed 
anew.  A  palace  of  magic,  the  baccarat  rooms ! 
The  real  thing,  gambling! 

"What  do  you  want  to  do  now?"  he  asked. 
"Dance?  No?  Well,  I'll  do  anything  you 
like,  anything,  the  most  absurd  thing.  Is  that 
talking?" 

They  were  moving  somewhat  aimlessly 
down  the  grand  staircase. 

"Felix,  darling,"  she  murmured.  "Let's  go 
for  a  motor  run  in  the  hills.  There's  a  lovely 
moon.  I  should  so  love  it,"  She  desired  to 
be  alone  with  him  precisely  as  she  had  been 
alone  with  him  in  the  taxi  after  their  first 
dinner.  She  had  a  fancy  for  just  that  and 
nothing  else.  She  pictured  them  together  in 
the  car,  in  the  midst  of  gigantic  nature  and  in 
the  brilliant  night. 

"But  it  will  be  cold!"  he  protested. 

"It  wasn't  cold  when  we  came  in  here — it 
was  quite  warm — you  said  so,"  she  replied 
softly.  "But  just  as  you  please.  I  don't 
mind."  And  into  the  acquiescent  charm  of 
her  voice  she  dropped  one  drop  of  angelic 
resentment — one  single  drop;  not  because  he 


212  Lill 


lan 


objected  to  gratifying  her,  but  because  she 
knew  he  was  merely  fussing  himself  about  his 
throat  and  his  health  generally. 

"We'll  go  by  all  means.  It  won't  take 
long,"  he  yielded  affectionately,  without  re- 
serve. 

She  pressed  his  arm.  She  had  won.  He 
began  to  suspect  that  she  was  overwrought, — 
perhaps  by  the  first  sight  of  the  spectacle  of 
gambling  on  a  great  scale — and  he  soothed  her 
accordingly.  Half  a  dozen  automobiles  were 
waiting  and  willing  to  take  them  into  the  hills. 

Before  Lilian  had  regained  full  possession 
of  herself  they  were  clear  of  the  town,  and 
continually  ascending,  in  long  curves.  The 
night  was  magnificent ;  through  the  close-shut 
windows  of  the  car  could  be  seen,  not  the  moon, 
which  was  on  high,  but  the  strong  moonlight 
and  sharp  shadows,  and  the  huge  austere  con- 
tours of  the  hills ;  and  here  and  there  a  distant, 
steady  domestic  lamp.  Lilian  sat  in  her  corner 
and  Felix  in  his,  and  a  space  separated  them 
because  of  the  width  of  the  car.  She  felt  a 
peculiar  constraint  and  could  not  reach  the 
mood  she  wanted. 


In  the  Hills  213 


"Felix,"  she  said,  "you  heard  that  girl  say 
she  must  have  a  hundred  thousand  francs ;  how 
will  she  get  it?     How  can  she  get  it?" 

"She'll  just  disappear  for  a  day  or  two,  and 
then  she'll  come  back  with  it.  I  daresay  she 
owes  most  of  it  already  to  the  casino." 

"But  who  will  give  it  her?" 

"Ah!  That's  her  secret.  There's  always 
somebody  in  the  background  that  these  charm- 
ers have  made  themselves  indispensable  to. 
When  this  particular  charmer  tackles  the  par- 
ticular man  or  men  that  she's  indispensable  to, 
she'll  have  what  she  needs  out  of  them  if 
they've  got  it  to  give.  That's  a  certainty.  If 
a  man  has  hypnotised  himself  into  the  behef 
that  a  girl's  body  is  paradise  he'll  win  paradise 
and  keep  paradise.  He'll  steal,  commit  mur- 
der, sell  his  wife  and  children,  abandon  his 
parents  to  the  workhouse — ^there's  nothing  he 
won't  do.  And  he'll  do  it  even  if  she'll  only  let 
him  kiss  her  feet.  Of  course,  all  men  aren't 
hke  that,  but  there  are  quite  a  few  of  'em,  and 
these  charmers  always  find  'em  out.  Trust 
them." 


214  Lilian 

"I  couldn't  see  that  there  was  anything  very 
extraordinary  in  her." 

"Neither  could  I.  But  perhaps  we're  blind 
to  what  that  fellow  who's  going  to  fork  out  the 
hundred  thousand  francs  sees.  I  daresay  if  I 
were  to  dance  with  her  I  might  have  glimpses 
of  his  notion  of  her.  Anyhow,  you  bet  she's 
a  highly  finished  product ;  she's  got  great  gifts 
and  great  skill, — ^must  have — and  she  knows 
exactly  what  she's  about — and  she  looks  eight- 
een and  isn't  above  twenty-five.  You  must 
remember  she's  on  the  way  to  being  a  star  in 
the  most  powerful  profession  in  the  world. 
They've  made  practically  all  the  history  there 
is,  even  in  the  East,  and  they're  still  making  it 
— ^making  it  this  very  night." 

There  was  a  considerable  silence,  and  then 
Lilian  shot  across  the  seat  and  leaned  heavily 
against  Felix  and  clasped  his  neck. 

"Darling,"  she  said,  "I  know  I'm  going  to 
have  a  baby!" 

They  could  just  see  each  other.  Felix 
paused  before  replying. 

"Very  well!  Very  well,"  he  said  calmly. 
"We  shall  see  who's  right."     Her  thoughts 


In  the  Hills  215 


concerning  Lord  IMackworth  now  seemed  ut- 
terly incredible  to  her  in  their  mad  aberration. 

The  next  moment  the  car  swerved  unex- 
pectedly to  the  side  of  the  mounting  road  and 
the  engine  stopped;  the  chauffeur  jumped 
down,  opened  the  bonnet,  unstrapped  one  of 
the  side  lamps  and  peered  with  it  into  the 
secrets  under  the  bonnet.  Felix,  loosing  him- 
self from  Lilian,  rapped  sharply  on  the  front 
window,  but  got  no  response  from  the  bent 
chauifeur.  Then  impatiently  he  tried  to  let 
down  the  window,  and  could  not.  He  lifted 
it,  shook  it,  rattled  it,  broke  the  fragile  fasten- 
ing of  the  strap.  Suddenly  the  window  fell 
with  a  bang  into  its  slit,  and  there  was  a 
tinkling  of  smashed  glass. 

"Damn  it!  I  ought  to  have  opened  the 
door,  but  I  was  afraid  of  too  much  cold." 

The  icy  air  of  the  hills  rushed  like  an  assas- 
sin into  the  interior  of  the  car.  Felix  shivered, 
unlatched  the  door  and  got  out.  The  chauf- 
feur proved  to  be  an  Italian,  with  no  more 
French  than  sufficed  to  take  orders  and  receive 
fares  and  tips.  He  could  give  no  intelligible 
explanation  of  the  breakdown,  but  he  smiled 


2i6  Lilia 


n 


optimistically.  The  car  was  absolutely  alone 
on  the  road,  and  the  road  was  alone  in  the  vast 
implacable  landscape.  No  light  anywhere 
except  the  chilly,  dazzling  moon,  and  the  stars, 
and  the  glitter  of  a  far  range  of  god-like  peaks, 
whence  came  the  terrible  wind.  The  scene  and 
situation  intimidated.  The  inhuman  and  neg- 
ligent grandeur  of  nature  was  revealed. 
Felix  returned  into  the  car  and  shut  the  door, 
but  could  not  shut  out  the  cold.  Lilian 
covered  his  chest  with  her  warm  bosom. 
Gently  he  pushed  her  away. 

"No!  no!" 

"Let  me,  darling!" 

"It's  no  use.     I  shall  suffer  for  this." 

After  a  few  minutes  the  engine  was  throb- 
bing again,  and  they  had  begun  the  descent. 
But  no  device  could  conjure  away  the  ruthless 
night  air.  Back  at  the  hotel,  Felix  took 
brandy  and  hot  water,  accepted  Lilian's  hot 
water  bag  in  addition  to  his  own,  and  was  in 
bed  and  thickly  enveloped  in  no  time  at  all. 
Lilian  kissed  him  guiltily,  and  left  him.  He 
bade  her  good-night  kindly  but  absently,  en- 
grossed in  himself. 


VI 

THE  BENEFACTRESS 

WHEN  Lilian  was  alone  in  her  room  she 
thought  anxiously: 

"Supposing  he  should  want  more  brandy  in 
the  night — there  is  none!" 

The  travelling  flask  was  now  empty.  (In 
the  emergency,  hot  water  from  the  lavatory- 
basin  tap  had  been  used  to  dilute  the  brandy, 
Felix  having  said  impatiently  that  any  water 
would  do  so  long  as  it  was  hot, — hang  a  few 
germs!)  She  had  noticed  that  he  would  al- 
ways take  a  little  brandy  if  he  felt  unwell 
from  whatever  cause,  and  this  habit  caused  her 
no  uneasiness,  for  from  her  father  she  had  ac- 
quired a  firm  belief  in  the  restorative  qualities 
of  brandy;  even  her  mother  would  say  how 
unwise  it  was  to  "be  without"  brandy,  and 
before  starting  for  the  annual  domestic  holi- 
day invariably  attended  herself  to  the  provi- 
sion of  it.     The  lack  of  brandy  settled  upon 

217 


21 8  Li  II 


an 


Lilian's  mind,  intensifying  somehow  her  sense 
of  guilt.  She  felt  deeply  the  responsibihties 
of  the  situation,  which  became  graver  and 
graver  to  her — ^the  more  so  as  she  had  no  real 
status  to  deal  with  it. 

She  wanted  to  ring  the  bell,  but  the  bell  was 
within  a  few  yards  of  Felix's  door — he  often 
complained  on  this  score — and  to  ring  might 
be  to  wake  him.  Cautiously  she  stepped  into 
the  corridor,  hoping  to  find  Jacqueline  in  the 
service-room  at  the  end  of  the  shabby  little  side 
corridor  where  the  bell  and  the  room-indicator 
were.  She  knew  the  French  for  brandy.  The 
main  corridor  stretched  away  with  an  effect  of 
endlessness.  In  its  whole  length  only  two 
electric  lights  had  been  left  to  burn.  Solitude 
and  silence  made  it  mysteriously  solemn.  A 
pair  of  boots,  or  two  pairs  of  boots — one  large, 
one  small  and  dainty — here  and  there  on  a 
doormat  seemed  inexplicably  to  symbolise  the 
forlomness  of  humanity  in  the  sight  of  the  in- 
finite. The  beating  of  Lilian's  heart  attracted 
her  attention.  Not  without  an  effort  could  she 
cross  the  magic  and  formidable  corridor.  The 
door  of  the  service-room  was  locked.  No  hope ! 


The  Benefactress  219 


Even  Jacqueline  had  a  bed  somewhere  and  was 
asleep  in  it;  and  brandy  was  as  unattainable 
as  on  a  coral  island. 

Lilian  felt  the  rough  hair-lining  of  pleasure. 
The  idea  of  her  insecurity  frightened  her.  She 
perceived  that  a  life  of  toil,  abstinence,  depri- 
vation, and  cold  virginity  had  its  advantages. 
Of  course,  Fehx  was  not  going  to  be  ill;  but 
if  he  were,  and  if  her  dreadful  fears  about  her 
own  condition  were  realized, — what  then? 
What  would  happen?  Were  the  moral  maxims 
and  strict  practice  of  her  parents  after  all 
horribly  true?  The  wages  of  sin,  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing  .  .  .  ?  She  heard  steps  in  the 
distance  of  the  corridor.  She  peeped.  Some- 
body was  approaching.  Had  she  time  to  cross 
and  vanish  into  the  shelter  of  her  room?  She 
hesitated.  The  visitant  was  a  woman.  It  was 
the  girl  who  in  the  baccarat  rooms  had  talked 
of  a  hundred  thousand  francs  in  a  cockney 
accent,  the  girl  whom  Fehx  had  described  as 
probably  a  rising  star  in  the  most  powerful  of 
professions.  She  too  had  a  bed  and  was  seek- 
ing it  at  last. 

"I  expect  there's  no  chance  of  getting  hold 


220  Lilian 

of  a  servant  to-night,"  said  Lilian  meekly,  as 
the  girl  instinctively  paused  in  passing. 

The  girl,  staring  sharply  out  of  her  arti- 
ficially enlarged  eyes,  shrugged  the  shoulders 
of  negation  at  Lilian's  simplicity. 

"Anything  the  matter?" 

*'I  only  wanted  some  brandy.  My — " 
"husband"  she  meant  to  say,  but  could  not 
frame  the  majestic  word, — "my  friend's  not 
very  well.  Chill.  He's  had  a  very  little 
brandy  and  might  need  some  more  in  the 
night."     She  flushed. 

"Come  along  of  me.  I'll  let  you  have 
some."     What  a  harsh,  rasping  little  voice! 

The  benefactress's  bedroom  was  in  a  state 
of  rich  disorder  that  astounded  Lilian.  The 
girl  turned  on  every  light  in  the  chamber, 
banged  the  door,  and  pushing  some  clothes  off 
a  chair  told  Lilian  to  sit  down.  Drawers  were 
open,  cupboards  were  open,  the  wardrobe  was 
open.  Attire,  boxes,  bottles,  parcels,  candies, 
parasols,  illustrated  comic  papers,  novels  with 
shiny  coloured  covers  were  strewn  everywhere ; 
and  in  a  corner  a  terrific  trunk  stood  upright. 


The  Benefactress  221 


The  benefactress  began  ferreting  in  drawers 
and  slamming  them  to  one  after  another. 

"I'm  afraid  I'm  putting  you  to  a  lot  of 
trouble,"  said  LiHan.    "You're  very  kmd,  I'm 


sure." 


"Not  a  bit  of  it.  I  never  can  find  anything. 
I  think  us  girls  ought  to  stand  by  each  other, 
that's  what  I  think.  Not  as  we  ever  do!" 
Her  voice  seemed  to  thicken,  almost  to  break. 

LiHan  felt  as  if  the  entire  hotel  had  trembled 
under  her  feet,  but  she  gave  no  sign  of  shock ; 
she  desired  the  brandy,  if  it  was  to  be  had. 
"Us  girls"! 

"You  are  French,  aren't  you?  I  only  ask 
because  you  speak  English  so  well." 

After  a  moment  the  girl  replied,  her  head 
buried  in  a  drawer: 

"You  bet  I'm  French.  My  mother  sent  me 
to  a  convent  in  London  so  as  I  could  learn 
English  properly.  It  was  one  of  them  board- 
ing convents  where  you're  free  to  do  what  you 
like  so  long  as  you're  in  by  seven  o'clock. 
They  wanted  a  few  French  girls  for  the  chorus 
of  a  revue  at  the  Pavilion.  Soon  as  I  got  in 
there  I  never  went  back  to  the  convent  and 


222  Lilian 

I've  never  seen  ma  since,  either.  I  was  in  that 
chorus  for  a  year.  Oh!"  She  produced  an 
ingenious  and  costly  travelling  spirit-case,  and 
then  searched  for  the  key  of  it. 

"I  wish  I  could  speak  French  half  as  well 
as  you  speak  English." 

"If  I  had  half  your  face  and  your  figure  I'd 
give  all  my  English  to  anybody  that  cared  to 
have  it.  Oh!  Damn  the  key!  Excuse  me. 
Here  you  are."  She  offered  the  disengaged 
flask.  "Now  you  go  along  and  take  what  you 
want  and  bring  me  the  flask  back." 

She  stood  in  front  of  Lilian,  who  rose.  She 
was  as  flat  as  Milly  Merrislate,  and  neither  tall 
nor  graceful.  Every  lineament  of  the  pert 
face  so  heavily  masked  in  paint  and  powder, 
every  gesture,  the  too  bright  stockings,  the 
gilded  shoes,  the  impudent  coiffure,  the  huge 
and  flashy  rings,  the  square-dialled  wrist- 
watch — all  were  crudely  symptomatic  of  an 
ingrained  and  unalterable  vulgarity.  Lilian 
was  absolutely  unable  to  understand  how  any 
man,  however  coarse  and  cynical,  could  find 
any  charm  of  any  kind  in  such  a  girl.  But 
Lilian  did  not  know  that  intense  vulgarity  is 


The  Benefactress  223 

in  itself  irresistible  to  certain  amateurs  of 
women,  and  she  was  far  too  young  really  to 
appreciate  the  sorcery  of  mere  lithe  youth- 
fulness. 

"Why!  What  is  it?"  Lilian  exclaimed  as 
she  took  the  flask. 

Tears  were  ravaging  the  cheeks  of  the  bene- 
factress. 

"Oh!  Damn!"  The  benefactress  stamped 
her  foot  and  raised  her  thin,  loose,  bare  shoul- 
ders. "Gambling's  it.  I  always  lose  here. 
It's  all  shemmy  here,  and  when  you  win  at 
shemmy  you  take  other  people's  money,  not 
the  bank's,  and  that  puts  me  off  like  at  the  start. 
And  you  never  win  if  you  don't  feel  as  if  you 
were  going  to.  I  was  at  Monte  Carlo  last 
week  and  you  sh'd  've  seen  me  at  roulette, 
taking  the  casino  money.  I  couldn't  do 
wrong.  But  I  had  to  come  back  here,  and 
there  you  are!  Lost  it  all  and  a  lot  more!" 
She  was  speaking  through  her  tears.  "Cleaned 
out  to-night!  Naked!  You  see  it's  like  this. 
Gambling  gives  you  an  emotion.  It's  the  only 
thing  there  is  for  that — I  mean  for  me.  .  .  . 
Did  you  see  that  fat  beast  speak  to  me  to-night 


224  Lilian 

in  the  Casino?  Well,  he  said  something  to  me 
and  offered  me  ten  thousand  francs  and  I 
slapped  his  face  for  him  in  the  entrance-hall. 
He  knew  I  was  stony.  I  was  a  fool.  Why 
shouldn't  I  have  done  what  he  wanted?  What's 
it  matter?  But  no!  I'm  like  that,  and  I 
slapped  his  face  and  I'd  do  it  again,  I  would! 
He's  Scapini,  you  know,  the  biggest  share- 
holder in  both  the  big  hotels  here.  I  tore  it, 
I  did!  And  would  you  believe,  I'd  no  sooner 
got  in  here  afterwards  than  the  manager  told 
me  I  must  leave  to-morrow  morning.  It  was 
all  over  the  place  as  quick  as  that!  I've  only 
got  to  go  to  Paris  to  get  all  the  money  I  want. 
Yes.  But  I'd  sell  myself  for  a  year  to  be  able 
to  pay  my  bill  straight  off  in  the  morning  and 
cheek  'em.  It'll  be  near  a  thousand  francs,  and 
I  haven't  got  ten  francs,  besides  having  the 
whole  bally  town  against  me."  She  laughed 
and  threw  her  head  back.  "Here!  You  go 
along.  Don't  listen  to  me.  It's  not  the  first 
time,  neither  the  last.     Go  along  now." 

"I'm  very  sorry,"  said  Lilian.  She  simply 
could  not  conceive  that  the  girl,  possibly  no 
older  than  herself,  was  standing  alone  and  un- 


The  Benefactress  225 

aided  against  what  was  to  her  the  universe. 
How  could  these  girls  do  it?  What  was  the 
quality  in  them  that  enabled  them  to  do  it? 

She  was  in  the  intimidating,  silent,  mystery- 
hiding  corridor  again.  She  listened  at  the 
door,  which  she  had  left  ajar,  between  the 
bathroom  and  Fehx's  bedroom.  No  sound! 
In  the  solacing,  perfect  tidiness  of  her  room, 
she  poured  some  of  the  brandy  into  a  glass 
and  then,  taking  her  bag,  returned  to  the  bene- 
factress. 

"Here's  your  flask;  thank  you  very  much!" 
she  said.  "And  here's  a  thousand  francs,  if 
it's  any  use  to  you."  She  produced  the  note 
which  Felix  had  given  to  her.  The  money 
was  accepted,  greedily. 

"If  you're  here  in  a  week's  time,  in  five  days, 
you'll  have  it  back,"  said  the  benefactress, 
looking  at  her  wrist-watch.  "No!  It's  too 
late  to  go  and  play  again  now!"  She  giggled. 
"Tell  me  your  name.  You  can  trust  me.  I 
don't  believe  you're  real,  though!  You  could- 
n't be.  There  aren't  such  girls — anyhow  at 
your  age.  She  stopped,  and  gave  a  tre- 
mendous youthful  sigh.    "Ah!"  she  exclaimed. 


226  Lilia 


n 


"If  only  I  was  dead.  I  often  dream  of  lying 
in  my  grave — eternal  peace,  eternal  peace  1 
No  emotions !  No  men !  Quite  still !  Stretched 
straight  out !  Quiet  for  ever  and  ever !  Eternal 
peace!  D'you  know  I've  been  like  that  all  my 
life?    My  God!" 

Lilian  burst  into  tears,  agonized.  The 
original  benefactress  flung  herself  at  the  other 
benefactress  with  amazing  violence,  and  they 
kissed,  weeping. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  the  defier  of 
Scapini  murmured: 

"I  wish  to  heaven  I  could  do  something  for 
you!" 

Lihan  answered: 

"I  wish  you'd  tell  me  how  you  stain  your 
skin  that  lovely  Spanish  colour." 

And  she  immediately  received,  not  merely 
the  instructions,  but  the  complete  materials 
necessary  for  the  operation. 


VII 
THE  DOCTOR 

WHEN  she  awoke  the  next  morning 
after  a  very  few  hours'  sleep,  she  did 
so  suddenly,  to  a  full  consciousness  of  her 
situation,  and  not  little  by  little,  passing  by 
gradual  stages  to  realization,  as  was  her  wont. 
She  listened ;  no  sound  came  through  the  two 
half-open  doors.  The  brandy  had  not  been 
needed.  Perhaps  he  was  asleep;  perhaps  he 
had  had  a  good  night  and  was  perfectly  re- 
stored. She  rose,  unfastened  the  window  and 
very  quietly  pushed  back  the  shutters.  It  was 
raining.  Just  as  she  was,  her  hair  loose  and 
the  delicate  and  absurd  rag  of  a  nightdress  all 
untied,  she  surveyed  herself  sternly  in  the 
mirror.  She  was  well  content  with  her  beauty. 
Impossible  to  criticise  it!  In  every  way  she 
was  far  more  beautiful  than  the  nameless 
woman  whom  she  had  befriended  and  who  had 
befriended  her. 

227 


228  Lilian 

Partly  because  she  had  been  generous  to  her, 
she  felt  sympathy  for  the  girl.  The  phrase 
"us  girls"  stung  her  still,  but  it  was  not  ill 
meant ;  in  fact,  it  was  a  rather  natural  phrase, 
and  no  doubt  already  her  acquaintance  must 
have  perceived  how  wrong  it  was.  She  ad- 
mired the  girl  for  her  fierce  defiance  and  cour- 
age, and  for  the  intense  passion  with  which  she 
had  desired  the  grave.  "Stretched  straight 
out!  Quiet  for  ever  and  ever!"  Startling  and 
outrageous  words,  in  that  harsh  young  voice; 
but  there  was  something  fine  about  them! 
("I  may  say  the  same  one  day  soon,"  Lilian 
thought  solemnly.)  Moreover,  she  under- 
stood better  the  power  of  the  girl,  whose  kiss 
and  clasp  had  communicated  to  her  a  most 
disconcerting  physical  thrill.  Indeed  it  seemed 
to  her  that  she  was  on  the  threshold  of  all 
sorts  of  new  comprehensions.  Finally  she  had 
astonished  the  girl  by  the  grand  loan;  she  had 
shone;  she  had  pleased;  she  had  satisfied  her 
instinct  to  give  pleasure.     She  thought: 

"She  may  be  stronger  than  I  am,  and  clev- 
erer ;  but  she  is  very  silly  and  I  am  not.    And 


The  Doctor  229 


I'm  not  weak  either,  even  if  some  people  take 
me  for  weak." 

It  was  disturbing,  though,  how  that  phrase 
pricked  and  pricked :  "Us  girls."  Little  flames 
shot  up  from  the  ashes  of  her  early  and  aban- 
doned religion.  "The  wages  of  sin — ^the  wages 
of  sin."  Was  it  true  about  the  wages  of  sin? 
Was  she  to  be  punished?  The  great,  terrible 
fear  of  conception  still  dominated  her  soul; 
and  it  grew  hourly.  At  each  disappointing 
dawn  the  torture  of  it  increased.  She  saw  the 
powders  and  preparations  which  the  courtesan 
had  given  her;  she  recalled  the  minute  direc- 
tions for  the  use  of  them,  and  smiled  painfully. 
How  could  the  prospective  mother  employ 
such  devices?  Nevertheless,  if  she  escaped,  she 
would  employ  them  as  soon  as  Felix  was 
better.  She  knew  that  Fehx  would  delight  in 
the  perverse,  provocative  transformation,  and 
she  yearned  to  gratify  him  afresh  in  a  novel 
manner.  When  the  surprise  came  upon  him 
he  would  pretend  that  it  was  nothing;  but  he 
would  be  dehghted,  he  would  revel  in  it. 

Putting  on  her  peignoir  she  slipped  noise- 
lessly into  the  other  bedroom,  and  crept  up  to 


230  Lilian 

the  bed.  Needless  precaution :  Felix  was  wide 
awake,  staring  at  the  ceiling.  Before  speak- 
ing she  tenderly  kissed  him,  and  kept  her  face 
for  a  moment  on  his. 

"Better?" 

"Had  an  awful  night.  Couldn't  sleep  a 
wink.  I  won't  get  up  just  yet.  Order  me  tea 
instead  of  coffee.  We'll  go  out  after  lunch, 
not  before." 

"Do  you  think  you  ought  to  go  out, 
dearest  ?" 

"Of  course  I  ought  to  go  out,"  he  snapped 
peevishly. 

"It's  raining." 

"Oh,  well,  if  it's  raining  I  daresay  I  shan't 
want  to  go  out."  He  placed  his  hand  nerv- 
ously on  his  right  breast. 

"Does  it  hurt  you?" 

"Not  at  all.     Can't  I  touch  myself?" 

She  kissed  him  again.  Then  he  gazed  at  her 
with  love,  as  she  moved  over  him  to  ring  the 
bell. 

"You  all  right?" 

"Oh,  splendid!    I  listened  once  or  twice  at 


The  Doctor  2^1 


the  door,  but  as  I  didn't  hear  anything  I  made 
sure  you  were  asleep." 

She  kept  silence  about  her  awful,  persistent 
fear,  knowing  that  any  reference  to  it  would 
only  irritate  him.  He  was  more  than  ever  like 
a  child — and  a  captious  child.  She  realized  the 
attitude  of  his  sister  towards  him.  Thank  God 
he  was  better!  If  he  had  fallen  ill  she  would 
have  condemned  herself  as  a  criminal  for  life, 
for  her  insane,  selfish  suggestion  of  an  ex- 
cursion to  the  hills  at  night.  Not  he,  but  she, 
was  the  child. 

After  his  tea  he  did  get  up  and  dress;  but 
he  would  not  descend  to  lunch ;  nor  eat  in  the 
bedroom.  At  three  o'clock  he  said  that  when 
it  rained  on  the  Riviera  the  climate  was  the 
most  damnable  on  earth,  and  that  he  preferred 
to  be  in  bed.  And  to  bed  he  returned.  Then 
Lilian  noticed  him  fingering  his  breast  again. 

"Any  pain  there?" 

"Oh,  nothing!  Nothing.  Only  a  sort  of 
sensation." 

Soon  afterwards  he  gave  a  few  very  faint, 
short,  dry  coughs — scarcely  perceptible  efforts 
to  clear  the  throat.     And  at  the  same  Lilian 


232  Lilian 

went  cold.  She  knew  that  cough.  She  had 
helped  to  nurse  her  father.  It  was  the  af- 
frighting pneumonia  cough.  Almost  simul- 
taneously it  occurred  to  her  that  Felix  was 
trying  to  hide  from  her  a  difficulty  in  breath- 
ing. She  had  not  dreamed  of  anything  so  bad 
as  pneumonia,  which  for  her  was  the  direst  of 
all  diseases.  And  she  with  a  plan  for  dyeing 
her  skin  to  amuse  and  excite  him!  ...  She 
had  thought  of  a  severe  chill  at  the  worst. 

She  hurried  downstairs  to  see  the  concierge. 
The  lift  was  too  slow  in  coming  up  for  her; 
she  had  to  run  down  the  flights  of  carpeted 
steps  one  after  another.  The  main  question 
on  her  mind  was:  "Ought  I  to  telegraph  to 
his  sister  ?"  If  Miss  Grig  arrived,  what  would, 
what  could,  happen  to  herself?  The  concierge, 
a  dark,  haughty,  long-moustached,  somewhat 
consumptive  subject,  adored  Lilian  for  her 
beauty,  and  she  had  rewarded  his  worship  with 
exquisite  smiles  and  tones. 

"Would  you  like  the  English  doctor, 
Madam?"  said  he. 

''Is  there  an  English  doctor  here?"  She 
was  immensely  relieved.    She  would  be  able  to 


The  Doctor  233 


talk  to  an  English  doctor,  whereas  a  French 
doctor  with  his  shrugs  and  science,  and  under- 
standing nothing  you  said  .  .  . 

"Surely,  madam!  I  will  telephone  at  once, 
madam.  He  shall  be  here  in  one  quarter  hour. 
I  know  where  he  is.  He  is  a  very  good  doctor." 

"Oh,  thank  you!"  Concierges  were  mar- 
vellous persons. 

As  soon  as  she  had  gone  again  the  concierge 
made  all  the  pages  tremble.  It  was  the 
thwarted  desire  to  kneel  at  Lilian's  feet  and 
kiss  her  divine  shoes  that  caused  him  to  ter- 
rorize the  pages. 

As  for  telegraphing  to  Miss  Grig,  she  de- 
cided that  obviously  she  could  send  no  message 
till  the  doctor  had  examined  and  reported.  In 
regard  to  the  hotel  authorities  and  servants  she 
now  had  no  shame.  She  alone  was  responsible 
for  Fehx's  welfare,  and  she  would  be  respon- 
sible, and  they  must  all  think  what  they  liked 
about  her  relations  with  him.    She  did  not  care. 

The  concierge  was  indeed  marvellous,  for 
in  less  than  twenty  minutes  there  was  a  knock 
at  Felix's  door.    Lilian  opened,  saw  a  profes- 


234  Lilian 

sional  face  with  hair  half  sandy,  half  grey,  and 
turning  to  Fehx  murmured: 

"It's  the  doctor,  darhng." 

Felix,  to  whom  she  had  audaciously  said  not 
a  word  about  sending  for  a  doctor,  actually 
sat  up,  furious. 

"I'm  not  going  to  see  a  doctor,"  he  gasped. 
"I'm  not  going  to  see  any  doctor." 

"Come  in,  doctor,  please." 

The  moment  was  dramatic.  Felix  of  course 
was  beaten. 

"You'll  find  me  in  the  next  room,  doctor," 
she  said  after  a  minute,  and  the  doctor  bowed. 
In  another  ten  minutes  the  doctor  entered  her 
bedroom. 

"It's  a  mild  attack  of  pneumonia,"  said  he, 
standing  in  front  of  her.  "Very  mild.  I  can 
see  no  cause  for  anxiety.  You'd  better  have 
a  nurse  for  the  night." 

"I  would  sooner  sit  up  myself,"  Lilian  an- 
swered.   "I've  nursed  pneumonia  before." 

"Then  have  a  nurse  for  the  day,"  the  doctor 
suggested.  "I  can  get  an  English  one  from 
the  Alexandra  Hospital — a  very  good  one. 
She  might  come  in  at  once  and  stay  till  ten 


The  Doctor  235 


o'clock,  say."  Then  he  proceeded  to  the  treat- 
ment, prescriptions,  and  so  on.  An  English 
nurse ! 

Lilian  felt  extraordinarily  grateful  and  re- 
assured. She  knew  where  she  was  now.  She 
was  in  England  again. 

"Ought  I  to  telegraph  home?"  she  asked. 

"I  shouldn't  if  I  were  you,"  the  doctor  re- 
plied. "Better  to  wait  for  a  day  or  two. 
Telegrams  are  so  disturbing,  aren't  they?" 

His  gentle  manner  M^as  inexpressibly  sooth- 
ing. It  was  so  soothing  that  just  as  he  was 
leaving  she  kept  him  back  with  a  gesture. 

"Doctor,  before  you  go,  I  wish  you  would 
do  something  for  me."  And  she  sat  down, 
her  face  positively  burning,  and  shed  tears. 

In  the  night,  as  she  sat  with  Felix,  the  pa- 
tient's condition  unquestionably  improved. 
He  even  grew  cheerful  and  laudatory. 

"You're  a  great  girl,"  he  muttered  weakly 
but  firmly.  "I  knew  I  was  most  absurdly 
cross,  but  I'm  a  rotten  invalid." 

She  looked  at  him  steadily,  and,  her  secret 
resolve  enfeebled  by  his  surprising  and  ravish- 
ing  appreciation,    she   let   forth   against   the 


236  Lilian 

dictates  of  discretion  the  terrific  fact  which  was 
overwhehning  her  and  causing  every  fibre  in 
her  to  creep. 

"It's  true  what  I  told  you." 

"What?" 

"You  know "  (A  pause.) 

"How  do  you  know  it's  true?" 

"The  doctor " 

His  reception  of  the  tidings  falsified  every 
expectation.  He  waited  a  moment  and  then 
said  calmly : 

"That's  all  right.    I'll  see  to  that." 

She  did  not  kiss  him,  but,  sitting  on  the  bed, 
put  her  head  beside  his  on  the  pillow.  Seen 
close,  his  eyelashes  appeared  as  big  as  horse- 
hairs and  transcendently  masculine.  She 
tasted  the  full,  deep  savour  of  life  then,  move- 
less, in  an  awkward  posture,  in  the  midst  of  the 
huge  sleeping  hotel.  She  had  no  regrets,  no 
past,  only  a  future. 


VIII 
MARRIAGE 

LILIAN  went  to  bed  in  the  morning,  not 
only  with  the  assurance  that  Felix  was 
in  no  danger  but  with  his  words  echoing  in  her 
heart:  "We  shall  get  married — here — the 
moment  I'm  fit."  She  was  nursing  his  body; 
he  was  nursing  her  mind.  He  had  realised  at 
once,  of  course,  that  the  situation  was  com- 
pletely altered,  and  that  he  had  now  one  sole 
duty — his  duty  towards  her.  And  moreover 
he  had  cared  for  her  pride — had  not  used  the 
least  word  or  even  inflection  to  indicate  that 
she  was  absolutely  dependent  on  his  good  na- 
ture. The  very  basis  of  his  attitude  towards 
her  was  that  he  and  she  were  indivisible  in 
the  matter.  She  rose  about  two  o'clock,  and 
she  had  scarcely  got  out  of  bed  when  the  Irish 
nurse,  Kate  O'Connor,  tapped  at  her  door,  and 
having  received  permission  to  enter,  came  in 
with  a  conspiratorial  air. 

237 


238  Lilian 

"I  heard  you  stirring.  He's  going  on  splen- 
didly," said  the  glinting-eye  Kate,  clad  from 
head  to  foot  in  whitest  white.  "But  he  sent  me 
out  of  the  room  after  we'd  had  our  little  talk 
with  Dr.  Samson,  and  the  doctor  stayed  some 
while  afterwards.  Then  there  came  another 
gentleman,  French  gentleman,  and  I  was  sent 
out  again.  He  told  me  not  to  say  anything 
to  you,  and  I  promised  I  wouldn't ;  but  natur- 
ally I  must  tell  you." 

Lilian  thanked  her  undisturbed,  guessing 
that  Felix  was  at  work  upon  the  arrangements 
for  the  marriage.  In  the  night  he  had  asked 
her:  "Where  were  you  born?  What  parish?" 
And  on  her  inquiring  why  he  wanted  to  know 
he  had  rephed  casually:  "Oh,  it's  nothing. 
Just  curiosity."  But  she  had  not  been  de- 
ceived. She  understood  him, — how  he  loved 
to  plan  and  organise  their  doings  by  himself, 
saying  naught. 

The  fact  was  that  he  had  been  asking  the 
doctor  about  local  lawyers,  and,  having 
learned  what  he  desired,  he  had  sent  for  the 
most  suitable  avoue  and  put  into  his  hands  all 
the  business  of  the  marriage  of  two  British 


Marriage  239 


subjects  in  a  French  town.  Apparently,  as 
he  had  foreseen,  the  chief  documents  required 
were  the  birth  certificates  of  himself  and  Lil- 
ian, and  he  had  telegraphed  for  these  to  his 
own  sohcitor  in  London. 

Lilian  continued  to  receive  no  information 
concerning  the  progress  of  the  formalities,  and 
she  sought  for  none.  She  lived  in  a  state  of 
contemplation.  Her  anxieties,  except  the 
vague,  wonderful,  and  semi-mystical  anxiety 
of  far-off  motherhood  had  been  dissipated. 
She  was  upHfted ;  she  had  a  magnificent  sense 
of  responsibility,  which  gave  her  a  new  dig- 
nity, gravity  and  assurance.  Kate  O'Connor 
called  her  "madam,"  and  referred  to  her  as 
"madam,"  especially  when  speaking  to  Felix. 
The  assumption  underlying  the  behaviour  of 
everybody  was  that  she  was  Felix's  wife.  As 
for  the  French  lawyer,  she  never  even  saw  him. 

Meanwhile  Felix's  recovery  was  unexpect- 
edly slow,  and  he  went  through  several  slight 
relapses.  Now  and  then  his  voice  was  sud- 
denly become  hoarse  and  faint,  and  with  the 
same  suddenness  it  resumed  the  normal.  At 
length    he    grew    cantankerous.       The    two 


240  Lilian 

women  were  delighted,  telling  each  other  that 
this  crochetiness  was  a  certain  sign  of  strength. 
One  day  he  got  up  and  dressed  fully  and  sat 
at  the  window  for  half  an  hour,  returning  to 
bed  immediately  afterwards.  The  same  eve- 
ning he  convinced  Lilian  that  there  was  no 
more  need  for  her  to  watch  through  the  night. 
The  next  morning  when  Lihan  entered  his 
room  the  nurse  was  not  there. 

"I've  sent  her  off,"  Felix  explained.  "I 
much  prefer  to  have  you  with  me  than  any 
nurse  on  earth."  He  was  dressed  before  ten 
thirty.  "Now  put  your  things  on,"  said  he. 
"What  for?  I  don't  want  to  go  out." 
"We're  going  out  together.  Look  what  a 
fine  day  it  is!  We're  going  to  be  married  at 
eleven  o'clock,  at  the  mairie.  Now  hurry  up." 
His  voice  hardened  into  a  command. 

"But — but  does  Dr.  Samson  agree  to  you 
going  out?"  she  asked,  quite  over-taxed. 

"Samson  doesn't  know,  as  it  happens;  but 
if  he  did  of  course  he'd  agree." 

She  might  have  refused  to  go.  But  could 
she  refuse  to  go  and  be  married,  she,  the  bearer 
of  his  child?    She  perceived  that  he  had  been 


Marriage  241 


too  clever  for  her,  had  trapped  her,  in  his  de- 
termination to  regularize  her  situation  at  the 
earliest  possible  moment.  She  forced  a  timid 
smile  and  covered  him  up  for  the  journey. 

The  lift-boy  smiled  a  welcome  to  him.  The 
concierge  was  the  very  symbol  of  attentive 
deference,  and  in  the  carriage  enveloped  Lil- 
ian's feet  with  the  rug  as  though  they  had  been 
two  precious  jewels — as  they  were.  The  man- 
ager himself  made  a  majestic  appearance,  and 
shot  out  congratulations  like  stars  from  a  Ro- 
man candle.  And  the  weather  was  supremely 
gorgeous. 

At  the  maine  waited  the  avoue  and  his  clerk, 
who  were  to  act  as  witnesses.  The  avoue  and 
Felix  talked  to  dirty  and  splendid  officials; 
Felix  and  Lilian  signed  papers. 

"Now  you've  only  got  one  thing  to  do,"  said 
Felix.  "When  I  nudge  you,  say,  'Oui,  mon- 
sieur le  Tnaire/  " 

They  were  inducted  into  the  sanctuary  of 
celebration,  and  Lilian  saw  a  fat  gentleman 
wearing  the  French  national  flag  for  a  waist- 
band. It  would  have  been  very  comical  had 
it    not   been    so   impressive.      The    ceremony 


242  Ltlia 


n 


started,  Lilian  understanding  not  a  word. 
Felix  nudged  her.  She  murmured,  ''Qui, 
monsieur  le  maire." .  .  .  The  ceremony 
closed.  Immediately  afterwards  Felix  hand- 
ed her  a  sort  of  little  tract  in  a  yellowish-brown 
cover. 

"You're  married  now,  and  if  anybody  says 
you  aren't,  show  'em  this." 

The  avoue  was  tremendous  with  bows  and 
smiles.  They  drove  back  to  the  hotel.  They 
were  in  the  bedroom.  Lihan  took  Felix  ap- 
prehensively by  the  shoulders. 

"Oh,  darling.  You're  sure  it  hasn't  done 
you  any  harm?" 

"And  that's  not  quite  all.  There's  my  will," 
said  he.    "Ring  the  bell." 

He  spoke  to  Jacqueline,  who  after  a  few 
minutes  brought  in  an  Enghsh  valet  and  an 
English  lady's  maid.  Felix  was  set  upon  hav- 
ing his  will  witnessed  by  people  with  Enghsh 
addresses.  He  silently  gave  Lilian  the  will 
to  read.  He  had  written  it  himself.  In  three 
lines  it  bestowed  upon  her  all  that  was  his. 
Not  a  syllable  about  his  sister.  Well,  that  was 
quite  right,  because  Miss  Grig  had  means  of 


Marriage  243 


her  own.  Sitting  in  the  easy-chair,  with  a 
blotting  pad  on  his  knees,  Felix  signed  the 
will.  Then  the  valet  and  the  lady's  maid 
signed,  with  much  constraint  and  flourish. 
Felix  gave  them  fifty  francs  apiece,  and  dis- 
missed them. 

"Put  that  with  your  marriage  certificate," 
he  said  to  Lilian,  folding  up  the  will  and  offer- 
ing it  to  her.  "I  think  I'll  get  back  to  bed. 
Exhausting  work,  being  married!"  He 
laughed  shortly.  "I'm  going  to  sleep,"  he  said 
later,  after  he  had  eaten  and  drunk.  "You  be 
off  downstairs  and  have  your  lunch." 

But  of  course  she  could  not  go  downstairs. 
She  dropped  into  her  bed,  staggered  by  the 
swift  evolution  of  her  career.  Staggered  by 
it!  Lo!  She  was  a  typewriting  girl  wearing 
wristlets,  poor,  hopeless,  with  no  prospects.  A 
little  while,  and  lo!  she  was  the  wife  of  a  rich 
and  brilhant  adorer,  and  an  honest  man  in 
whom  her  trust  was  absolute.  And  she  was 
pregnant.  Strange  fear  invaded  her  mind,  the 
ancient  fear  that  too  much  happiness  is  a  crime 
that  destiny  will  punish. 


IX 

THE  PARTING 

FELIX  seriously  ill;  double  pneumonia; 
we  are  married. — Lilian  Grig."  Ten 
words,  plus  Isabel's  address  and  her  own!  She 
wrote  the  telegi-am  after  several  trials,  in  her 
bedroom,  on  half  a  sheet  of  the  hotel  note- 
paper,  Kate  O'Connor  standing  by  her  side, 
the  next  morning  but  one. 

"Give  it  me,"  said  the  white  nurse.  "I'll  see 
to  it  for  you,  Mrs.  Grig,  as  I  go  home." 

She  looked  up  at  the  nurse,  and  the  nurse, 
eyes  no  longer  laughing,  looked  down  at  her. 
The  nurse  knew  everything,  and  moreover 
must  have  assisted  at  scores  of  tragedies;  yet 
Lilian  regarded  her  as  an  innocent  who  under- 
stood nothing  essential  in  life.  Her  comfort- 
ing kiss  was  hke  the  kiss  of  a  very  capable  child 
pretending  to  be  grown  up. 

Voices  in  the  other  bedroom!  The  doctor 
had  arrived  and  was  talking  to  the  second 

244 


The  Parting  245 


nurse.  They  went  in  together.  Felix  lay  a 
changed  man,  horribly  aged.  He  was  a  man 
who  had  suddenly  learned  that  in  order  to  live 
it  was  necessary  to  breathe,  and  that  breathing 
may  be  an  intensely  difficult  operation  of  me- 
chanics. His  lined,  wrinkled  face  was  drawn 
with  the  awful  anxieties  incident  to  breathing, 
and  with  the  acute  pain  in  both  lungs.  The 
enemy  was  growing  in  strength  and  Felix  was 
losing  strength,  but  he  could  not  surrender. 
He  must  continue  to  struggle,  despite  the 
odds,  and  there  was  no  referee  to  stop  the  fight, 
either  on  the  ground  that  it  had  developed  into 
an  assassination  or  on  any  other  ground.  The 
brutality  had  to  proceed.  And  the  sun 
streamed  through  the  window;  and  outside, 
from  the  promenade  where  the  idlers  were 
strolling  and  the  band  was  playing,  the  win- 
dow looked  exactly  the  same  as  all  the  other 
windows  of  the  enormous  hotel. 

After  an  examination,  Dr.  Samson  injected 
morphia.  The  result  was  almost  instan- 
taneous. The  victim,  freed  from  the  anxiety 
of  the  pain,  could  devote  the  whole  of  his 
energy  to  breathing.     He  sighed,  and  smiled 


246  Lilian 

as  if  he  had  entered  paradise.  He  gave  a  few 
short,  faint  coughs,  Hke  the  cough  of  a  nervous 
veiled  woman  in  church,  and  said  in  a  hoarse, 
feeble,  whispering  voice: 

"You  must  understand,  doctor,  it  was  all 
my  fault.  I  insisted,  and  what  could  she  do?" 
The  two  nurses  modestly  bent  their  gaze. 

"Yes,  yes,"  the  doctor  concurred. 

Felix  had  already  made  the  same  announce- 
ment several  times. 

"But  I  want  everybody  to  know,"  he  per- 
sisted. 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  the  doctor.  "I  shall  give 
you  some  oxygen  this  morning.  It  will  be 
here  in  a  minute.  That  will  do  you  a  lot  of 
good.    You'll  see." 

Lilian  was  the  calmest  person  in  the  room. 
She  had  decided  that  there  was  no  hope,  and 
had  braced  herself  and  become  matter-of-fact. 
She  was  full  of  health,  power,  and  magnificent 
youth,  and  the  living  seed  of  Felix  was  within 
her.  She  quietly  kissed  Felix  on  his  damp 
cheek ;  no  gold  now  glistened  in  his  half -empty 
mouth.  She  returned  to  her  own  bedroom, 
and  Dr.  Samson  followed. 


The  Parting  247 


"He's  much  worse,"  she  said  firmly  to  the 
doctor. 

"He  is  not  better,"  said  the  doctor.  "But 
there  is  always  hope." 

She  glanced  sadly  at  the  soft  and  mournful 
face  of  the  middle-aged  doctor.  Nurse  Kate 
had  told  her  the  story  of  the  doctor,  who  was 
a  widower  and  solitary  and  possibly  consump- 
tive, and  on  account  of  his  lungs  practised  on 
the  Riviera  during  the  winter.  The  vast 
tragedy  of  the  world  obsessed  her;  there  was 
no  joy  nor  pleasure  in  the  whole  world,  and 
the  ceaseless  activities  of  gaiety  that  wearied 
the  hotel  and  the  Casino  and  the  town  and  the 
neighbouring  towns  seemed  to  her  monstrous, 
pathetic,  and  more  tragic  even  than  FeHx's 
bed. 

For  five  days  she  cabled  daily  to  Miss  Grig, 
and  got  nothing  in  reply.  Felix's  strength 
consistently  waned.  And  neither  morphia  nor 
oxygen  could  help  him  more  than  momenta- 
rily. Jacqueline,  the  nurses,  the  doctor,  treated 
Lilian  as  a  holy  madonna.  They  all  exclaimed 
at  her  marvellous  steadfastness.  The  man- 
ager of  the  hotel  paid  a  decorous  call  of  in- 


248  Lilian 

I  

quiry — ^though  it  was  apparent  that  he  was  al- 
ready familiar  with  every  detail — and  he  too 
treated  Lilian  as  a  holy  madonna.  Two  days 
later,  in  the  evening,  just  after  Nurse  Kate 
had  come  on  duty,  Felix  held  out  his  hand  for 
his  wife's  hand,  and,  casting  off  his  frightful 
physical  preoccupation,  said  in  a  normal  voice : 

"Everything's  in  order.  Don't  be  an  idle 
woman,  my  poor  girl." 

She  dropped  on  her  knees,  and  throwing  her 
arms  on  his  body,  cried : 

"DarHng,  I've  killed  you!"  (The  thought 
that  she  had  brought  about  his  death  was  her 
continual  companion. )  But  Felix,  utterly  ab- 
sorbed again  in  the  ghastly  effort  to  breathe, 
had  no  ears  for  the  wild  outburst.  In  the 
night  he  died.  He  had  written  a  short  note 
to  his  sister  before  the  great  relapse,  and  since 
then  had  not  even  mentioned  her. 


THE  WREATH 

DR.  SAMSON  sat  with  Lilian  in  her 
bedroom  late  the  next  night.  It  was 
the  middle  of  the  night.  He  was  taller  than 
Felix,  and  not  so  old;  his  face  was  more  flat 
and  milder,  but  there  was  something  in  his  ex- 
pression and  about  the  wrinkles  round  his  eyes 
that  reminded  her  of  Felix,  and  he  had  at- 
tached himself  to  her  to  serve  her;  his  mourn- 
ful gaze  appealed  to  her.  It  was  he  who  had 
made  her  understand  that  death  in  a  hotel  de- 
voted to  gaiety  was  an  indiscretion,  a  lapse 
from  good  taste,  that  must  be  carefully  hidden. 
He  stood  faithfully  between  her  and  the  world, 
the  captive  of  her  beauty,  wanting  no  reward 
but  the  satisfaction  of  having  helped  her. 

Not  that  much  help  was  needed.  The 
routine  of  such  episodes  was  apparently  fixed. 
Things  moved  of  themselves.  All  requirements 
seemed  to  be  met  automatically.     There  was 

249 


250  Lilian 

even  an  English  cemetery  in  the  region. 
Early  on  the  morning  after  the  death  a  young 
woman  in  black  had  called  to  present  the  card 
of  a  great  Paris  shop  with  a  branch  in  the 
town,  and  by  the  evening  Lilian  was  dressed  in 
black.  The  layer-out  had  arrived  earlier  yet 
than  the  dressmaker.  Dr.  Samson  had  inter- 
viewed the  manager  of  the  hotel.  An  im^ 
portant  part  of  the  routine  was  that  the 
whole  of  the  furniture  of  Felix's  room  should 
be  removed,  and  the  room  refurnished  at 
the  cost  of  the  representative  of  the  dead. 
Dr.  Samson  settled  the  price.  Lilian  de- 
cided to  give  the  old  furniture  to  the  Alex- 
andra Hospital.  The  doctor  had  volunteered 
to  finance  Lilian  till  she  should  be  back  in 
London;  but  afterwards  the  equivalent  of 
nearly  £400  in  French  and  English  money 
was  discovered  in  Fehx's  dispatch-case,  the 
inside  of  which  Lilian  had  never  seen.  The 
doctor  had  also  sent  off  the  telegram  to  the 
mute  Miss  Grig:  "Felix  died  in  the  night;  am 
returning  London  immediately,"  and  got  the 
railway  ticket,  and  accomplished  the  legal 
formaUties    preliminary    to    the    burial,    and 


The  Wreath  251 


warned  the  English  chaplain,  and  ordered  a 
gravestone  in  a  suitable  design  and  taken 
Lilian's  wishes  as  to  the  inscription  thereon. 
Nothing  remained  to  be  done  but  wait.  Lilian 
was  quietly  packing;  the  doctor  sat  watchful 
to  assist.  They  both  heard  a  noise  in  the  next 
room;  and  at  the  noise  Lilian  was  at  last 
startled  from  her  calm.  The  moment,  then, 
had  come.  Dr.  Samson  went  first.  The 
room,  which  ought  to  have  been  in  dark- 
ness, was  Hghted,  and  not  by  electricity  but  by 
two  candles,  one  on  either  side  of  the  bed. 

"Who  has  done  this?"  Lilian  murmured,  and 
gave  a  sob. 

The  door  into  the  corridor  was  locked;  to 
keep  it  locked  had  been  part  of  the  unalterable 
routine.  Therefore  the  candles  could  only 
have  been  brought  by  somebody  on  the  staff  of 
the  hotel.  The  next  instant  Jacquehne  en- 
tered, through  the  bathroom.  She  was  weep- 
ing. 

"Pardon  me,  madame.  I  couldn't  go  to  bed. 
I  couldn't  sleep.  And  I  thought  of  the  candles. 
It  was  too  much  for  me.  I  had  to  bring  them. 
If  I  was  wrong,  pardon  me.  .  .  .  They  will  be 


252  Lilian 

here  soon."  She  threw  herself  down  on  her 
knees  at  the  foot  of  the  bed.  She  had  spoken 
in  French.    The  doctor  interpreted. 

"Tell  her  I  thank  her  very  much,"  said 
Lilian,  "and  ask  her  to  go  to  bed.  She'll  have 
her  work  to  do  to-morrow,  poor  tiling!" 

Jacquehne  rose.  Lilian  took  her  hand,  and 
turned  away. 

"And  this  came,"  Jacqueline  added,  point- 
ing to  a  package  in  tissue  paper  that  lay  on  a 
chair.  "The  night  porter  has  only  just  brought 
it  up,  and  as  I  was  coming  in  with  the  con- 
dies.  .  .  ." 

Lilian  removed  the  tissue-paper  and  saw  a 
magnificent  wreath  of  lilies,  far  finer  than  any- 
thing in  her  experience,  a  wreath  for  an  im- 
perial monarch.  In  the  middle  was  a  white 
envelope.  She  opened  the  envelope;  it  con- 
tained two  French  bank-notes  for  five  hundred 
francs  each.    No  signature !    Not  a  word ! 

"She  has  got  her  money,"  thought  Lilian. 
"How?"  And,  placing  the  wreath  on  Felix's 
feet,  she  burst  into  tears. 

Jacqueline  had  vanished.  Suddenly  Lilian 
began  to  stride  to  and  fro  across  the  room.  She 


The  Wreath  253 


was  full  of  youth  and  force.  She  was  full  of 
fury  and  resentment.  The  moving  muscles  of 
her  splendid,  healthy  body  could  be  discerned 
through  her  black  dress.  She  frightened  the 
doctor. 

"Ah!"  she  cried,  with  a  gesture  towards  the 
wreath,  "she  is  the  only  one  that  understands 
that  I  don't  want  to  be  comforted!  Nobody 
else  has  understood.  I  expect  she  just  heard 
that  he  was  dead,  and  she  doesn't  know  that  I 
killed  him;  but  she  understood.  She  under- 
stood." The  doctor,  quite  mystified,  seized  her 
arm  to  soothe  her,  and  was  astonished  at  her 
strength  as  she  shook  him  off.  She  was  like  a 
tigress.  Nevertheless  she  let  herself  be  per- 
suaded to  follow  him  into  her  own  room.  There 
her  eye  caught  the  toilet  preparations  which  the 
courtesan  had  bestowed  on  her. 

"And  she  gave  me  these!"  Lihan  laughed, 
hesitated,  and  added  fiercely :  "I  will  take  them 
back  with  me!"  And  she  cast  them  into  one 
of  the  open  trunks.  Then  she  said  calmly: 
"Of  course  I  know  it  was  because  of  the  win- 
dow of  the  car  being  broken,  and  it  would  have 
been  all  right  if  the  engine  hadn't  stopped. 


254  Lilian 

But  it  was  my  silly,  silly  idea  to  go  out  for  a 
drive  at  night.  ...  I  can't  help  it !  I  did  kill 
him!  He'd  have  been  alive  now  if  I  hadn't  be- 
haved myself  like  a  perfect  child!" 

The  doctor  offered  no  remark.  She  resumed 
all  her  old  tranquillity,  wiping  her  eyes  care- 
fully with  a  fine,  tiny  handkerchief  that  Fehx 
had  given  her.  The  bearers  arrived  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  later,  discreet,  furtive,  and  sinister. 
The  hotel  slept  in  its  vastness.  All  gaiety  was 
asleep.  But  even  if  some  devoted  slave  of  dis- 
sipation had  surprised  them  on  their  way  back, 
he  could  not  have  guessed  that  it  was  a  coffin 
they  bore.  The  doctor,  by  using  his  profes- 
sional prestige,  kept  Lilian  in  her  own  room 
till  the  bearers  were  nearly  ready  to  depart 
with  more  than  they  had  brought.  She  went 
into  the  mortuary.  The  coffin  was  disguised. 
Picking  up  the  wreath,  which  had  been  forgot- 
ten or  intentionally  left,  she  placed  it  upon  the 
coffin  and  beneath  the  disguise.  It  lay  there 
alone  in  its  expensive  grandeur.  The  bearers 
withdrew  with  their  burden,  tiptoeing  along  the 
dim,  silent  corridor  lest  revellers  should  be  dis- 
turbed from  well-earned,  refreshing  sleep  and 


The  Wreath  255 


open  their  doors  to  see  what  was  afoot  in  the 
night.  The  cortege  was  lost  to  view  round  the 
corner  at  the  end  of  the  corridor.  The  doctor 
remained  a  little  while,  and  he  also  prepared  to 
go.  The  two  nurses  Lilian  would  never  see 
again. 

"You  should  go  to  bed  now  and  try  to  sleep. 
I'll  call  for  you  in  good  time  to-morrow  for 
the  funeral." 

Lilian  shook  her  head. 

"No,  I'm  going  to  pack  his  things  now."  She 
stood  at  the  door  of  his  room,  and  watched  the 
doctor  also  disappear  from  view  round  the 
corner  at  the  end  of  the  corridor. 


PART  FOUR 


■  ?^ 


I 

I 


Part  Four 


THE  RETURN 

IT  was  early  in  July,  on  one  of  those  long 
summer  evening  of  which  the  melancholy 
twihght  seems  determined  never  to  end,  that 
Lilian,  from  Victoria  Station,  drove  up  to  her 
late  husband's  house,  now  her  own.  The  events 
leading  to  the  arrival,  and  giving  it  a  most  poig- 
nant dramatic  quality,  had  one  after  another 
as  they  occurred  impressed  everybody  con- 
cerned as  being  very  strange  and  sinister ;  but 
seen  in  perspective  they  took  on  a  rather  ordi- 
nary complexion. 

At  the  very  moment  of  leaving  the  Riviera 
Lihan  had  heard  that  Miss  Grig,  on  her  way 
to  the  South  to  see  Felix,  had  been  detained 
in  Paris  by  serious  ptomaine  poisoning  due  to 
food  eaten  at  home.  Had  Miss  Grig  been  able 
to  get  a  berth  in  the  through  Calais-Mediter- 

259 


26o  Lilia 


n 


ranee  express,  she  might  well  have  died  in 
the  train;  but  she  had  not  been  able  to  get  a 
berth  and  had  travelled  by  a  service  which 
necessitated  crossing  Paris  by  taxi.  She  never 
did  cross  Paris.  Railway  officials  carried  her 
to  the  Hotel  Terminus,  and  medical  aid  was 
obtained  just  in  time.  For  several  days  she 
was  lost,  like  a  mislaid  and  helpless  parcel  in 
the  international  post.  As  soon  as  she  could 
move  again  she  returned  home,  for  Felix  was 
by  then  dead,  and  buried. 

Lilian,  on  her  part,  did  travel  towards  Lon- 
don by  the  through  Calais-Mediterranee  ex- 
press, alighting  at  Calais  extremelj'^  exhausted 
after  twenty-eight  hours  on  the  railway.  A 
gale  was  raging  in  the  Channel.  The  steamer 
failed  to  enter  Dover,  a  vast  harbour  con- 
structed in  defiance  of  common-sense  for  the 
inconvenience  of  seafarers,  and  put  in  at  Folke- 
stone. This  detail  changed  the  course  of 
Lihan's  journey.  She  was  lifted  ashore  suf- 
fering acutely  from  sickness  and  nervous  shock 
caused  by  the  storm.  At  Dover  she  would  as- 
suredly not  have  remained  more  than  a  day  or 
two ;  but  Folkestone  is  a  health-resort,  and,  in- 


The  Return  261 


stalled  in  a  big  hotel  on  the  Leas,  she  was 
tempted  to  let  week  drift  after  week  in  languid 
and  expectant  meditation.  Felix's  solicitor 
came  down  several  times  from  London  to  see 
her  and  take  her  instructions.  From  him  she 
had  news  of  Miss  Grig  and  of  the  business; 
but  she  neither  saw  Miss  Grig  nor  heard  from 
her ;  the  silence  between  the  two  mourners  was 
absolute;  and  Lilian  would  not  be  the  first  to 
break  it;  moreover,  there  was  no  official  need 
for  letters  to  pass,  each  party  being  always  well 
informed  of  the  situation  through  the  medium 
of  the  lawyer.  At  the  close  of  the  Riviera  sea- 
son Lilian  had  a  flattering  surprise.  Dr.  Sam- 
son the  faithful  came  to  see  her  in  Folkstone. 
He  was  staying  at  another  hotel.  He  desired 
nothing,  hoped  for  nothing,  except  to  exhibit 
his  fidelity.  She  had  in  him  someone  upon 
whom  she  could  exercise  her  instinct  to  please, 
and  to  whom  she  could  talk  about  the  unique 
qualities  of  Felix.  But  also  she  had  grown 
capricious  and  uncertain  in  temper.  Perceiv- 
ing at  once  that  her  little  outbursts  charmed 
and  delighted  him,  she  did  not  check  them,  but 
rather  bestowed  them  upon  him  as  favours ;  and 


262  Lill 


an 


the  gloomy,  fretful,  transformed  girl  in  un- 
becoming black  played  with  some  spirit  the 
role  of  spoiled  virgin  from  whom  a  suppliant 
adorer  anticipates  one  day  complete  surrender. 
It  was  touching  and  at  the  same  time  comical. 
As  spring  glowed  into  summer  two  factors 
gradually  decided  Lilian  to  proceed  to  London. 
Visitors  increased  in  Folkestone ;  the  Leas  were 
no  longer  a  desert,  and  she  didn't  care  to  be 
much  remarked.  And  further.  Dr.  Samson 
advised  her  to  have  her  child  in  London,  and  to 
settle  there  well  in  advance  of  the  ordeal.  He 
suggested  more  than  one  house;  but  Lilian 
would  listen  to  no  counsel  on  this  matter.  She 
gave  out  sharply  that  she  would  have  Felix's 
child  in  Felix's  house,  which  was  her  house — 
and  nowhere  else.  The  ever-silent  Miss  Grig 
was  still  there,  but  Lilian  had  no  objection  to 
her  staying  there.  She  knew  what  was  due  to 
her  husband's  sister.  She  sent  for  the  solicitor 
and  invited  him  to  make  all  the  arrangements 
and  to  report  when  he  had  done  so.  In  due 
course  she  journeyed  to  London,  deliberately 
missing  train  after  train  on  the  day  of  depar- 
ture.    Dr.    Samson  accompanied   her  to  the 


The  Return  263 


doorstep  of  her  house  and  FeHx's,  he  paid  the 
taxi-driver,  and  then  he  shook  hands  and  van- 
ished. She  wished  to  present  herself  alone,  and 
to  this  end  had  postponed  ringing  the  bell  until 
all  that  Dr  Samson  could  do  was  done. 

The  facade  of  the  house  had  been  modern- 
ized, not  untastefully,  and  was  different  from 
nearly  all  the  other  houses  in  Montpelier 
Square.  The  front  door  was  of  a  rich,  deep 
blue.  The  curtains  of  the  windows  had  in- 
dividuality. Lilian  looked  the  facade  up  and 
down  and  from  side  to  side.  She  had  not  even 
seen  the  house  before;  no,  nor  yet  the  Square. 
Felix!  It  was  all  Fehx.  "Felix"  was 
written  right  across  it.  And  it  was  hers — 
at  any  rate  the  lease  of  the  house  was  hers! 
It  belonged  to  none  but  herself.  She  knew 
the  fact,  but  could  not  imaginatively  grasp 
it,  and  the  effort  to  grasp  it  made  her  feel 
faint  with  emotion.  She  was  frightened,  she 
was  proud,  she  was  ashamed,  she  was  defiant, 
she  was  almost  sick. 

"Why  did  I  insist  on  coming  here  like  this?" 
she  thought.  "No  girl  was  ever  in  such  a  posi- 
tion before!" 


264  Lilian 

The  blue  door  opened  as  it  were  the  door  of 
a  chamber  of  unguessed  tortures.  A  flush 
spread  slowly  over  Lilian's  face. 

"Now,"  she  thought,  "now  I  am  in  the 
middle  of  it  all,  and  can't  go  back." 

A  parlourmaid  stood  in  the  doorway,  tall, 
stiff,  prim,  perfect — such  a  creature  as  would 
have  refused  to  recognise  for  fellow  creatures 
the  cook-generals  of  Putney.  Her  mature, 
hard  face  relaxed  into  the  minimum  of  a  cere- 
monial smile. 

"Oh,  good  evening!"  said  Lilian  awkwardly, 
no  better  than  a  typewriting  girl,  and  stepped 
into  the  house. 

"Good  evening'm,"  said  the  parlourmaid, 
and,  as  she  realized  Lilian's  condition  the  face 
relented  still  further  and  its  smile  flickered  into 
genuineness.  Though  her  eyes  and  mouth 
showed  that  she  was  virtuous  to  the  verge  of 
insanity,  she  seemed  to  be  moved,  in  spite  of 
herself,  by  the  spectacle  of  languid  and  soft  and 
mourning  Lilian. 

"Miss  Grig  wished  me  to  say  that  she  is  en- 
gaged for  the  moment.  She  was  expecting 
3^ou  earlier  in  the  day.    And  shall  I  show  you 


The  Return  265 


the  principal  bedroom?  And  if  you  have  any 
orders.  .  .  .  Yes'm,"  following  Lilian's  glance 
at  her  trunks  piled  in  the  porch — "we've  got  a 
young  man  in  as  will  see  to  them." 

Lilian  sat  down  on  an  old  carved  chair  with 
a  wooden  seat.  How  characteristic  and  horrid 
of  Miss  Grig  not  to  be  ready  to  receive  her! 
Not  that  she,  LiHan,  the  mistress  of  the  house, 
needed  a  reception  from  anyone!  Certainly 
not !  This  notion  braced  and  fortified  her.  A 
j^oung  man  did  appear  fussily  from  the  dark 
basement  staircase,  and  pulled  the  trunks  one 
after  another  within  the  house.  The  front 
door  was  then  shut.  The  hall  and  upward 
staircase  were  already  gently  lighted  for  the 
evening.  Beautiful  silk  shades  over  the  two 
lamps!  Not  a  very  large  house,  nor  very  lux- 
urious! But  the  carpets,  furniture,  and  pic- 
tures had  for  Lilian  just  the  pecuhar  distinc- 
tion which  she  had  hoped  for.  They  recalled 
the  illustrations  of  interiors  in  The  Studio 
which  used  to  come  every  month  to  Putney; 
and  they  were  utterly  different  from  the  Put- 
ney furniture.  Fehx!  All  Felix!  No  Miss 
Grig!    Impossible  that  there  should  be  a  trace 


266  Lilian 

of  Miss  Grig  anywhere!  This  interior  had 
been  Felix's  habitation.  In  a  sense  it  was  the 
history  of  Fehx,  his  mind,  his  taste.  She  would 
have  to  study  it,  to  learn  it. 

This  interior  was  the  first  family  interior 
she  had  seen  since  Putney.  She  was  entering 
it  after  a  period  of  awful  lodging-houses  and 
garish  impersonal  hotels.  It  was  touchingly 
beautiful  to  her.  The  baby  should  be  born  in 
it,  should  grow  up  in  it,  should  know  it  as  the 
home  of  memory.  .  .  .  Then  it  became  a  vision, 
a  hallucination,  and  the  owning  of  it  be- 
came an  illusion.  How  could  she  own  it? 
Only  yesterday  Miss  Grig  had  thrown  her  out 
of  Clifford  Street  with  a  week's  wages  for  a 
weapon  to  fight  the  whole  world  with.  All 
that  had  happened  since  was  untrue  and  hadn't 
happened. 

"I'll  go  upstairs,"  she  said  coldly  to  the  par- 
lourmaid. She  had  to  be  cold  in  order  to  be 
dignified.  Millj^  Merrislate  used  to  pose  like 
that  sometimes.  The  resemblance  annoyed 
her,  but  what  could  she  do  in  her  weakness 
against  the  power  of  the  situation?  She  did  as 
best  she  might. 


The  Return  267 


On  the  jfirst  floor  the  parlourmaid,  switching 
lights  off  and  on,  said : 

"This  is  the  bathroom  and  so  on." 

"Yes.  That  is  Miss  Grig's  room,"  in  a 
hushed  voice. 

Lilian  murmured  no  affirmative  at  the  face 
of  the  shut  door;  her  eyes  had  a  gleam  of  cru- 
elty, and  involuntarily  her  hands  clenched. 
The  house  began  to  grow  enormous,  endless. 

"This  is  the  principal  bedroom."  They  went 
into  it.  Curtains  drawn.  Two  soft  lights.  A 
narrowish  bed.  The  dressing-table  naked.  A 
wonderful  easy-chair.  Polished  surfaces  every- 
where. Cunning,  mild  tints — the  whole  mys- 
teriously beautiful.  Felix !  She  sank  into  the 
easy-chair,  drawing  off  her  black  gloves.  An- 
other maid  and  the  young  man  were  bumping 
the  trunks  up  the  stairs. 

"Will  you  have  everything  brought  in 
here'm?" 

"Please."  She  asked  that  two  of  the  trunks 
should  be  pushed  under  the  bed;  they  were 
Felix's.  The  other  maid  and  the  young  man 
departed. 

"Will  you  take  anything'm?" 


268  Lilia 


n 


"No,  thank  you." 

The  parlourmaid  softened  again. 

"Some  tea  and  some  nice  bread-and-butter?" 

LiMan  gave  a  smile  of  appreciation,  and 
thought : 

"I  will  make  this  girl  fond  of  me." 

"Up  here'm?" 

"Yes,  please." 

She  was  alone.  The  room  was  full  of  secrets. 
She  opened  a  wardrobe,  and  started  back; 
it  held  Felix's  suits.  She  gazed  at  herself  in 
the  mirror  of  the  naked  dressing-table;  tears 
were  slipping  down  her  wasted  white  cheeks. 
Mechanically  she  pulled  at  a  drawer.  Neck- 
ties, scores  of  them,  neatly  arranged.  Could 
one  man  have  possessed  so  many  neckties  ?  She 
picked  up  a  necktie  at  random,  striped  in  vio- 
lent colours.  She  did  not  know,  and  could 
not  have  known,  that  the  colours  were  those  of 
a  famous  school  club.  She  was  entirely  igno- 
rant of  the  immense,  the  unparalleled  prestige 
of  club  colours  in  the  organized  life  of  the  rul- 
ing classes.  Mechanically  again,  she  put  the 
necktie  to  her  mouth,  nibbled  at  it,  bit  it  pas- 
sionately, voluptuously;  the  feel  of  the  woven 


The  Return  269 


stuff  thrilled  her;  and  that  club  necktie  was 
understood,  comprehended,  realized,  as  no  club 
necktie  ever  before  in  all  the  annals  of  the 
sacred  public-school  tradition.  Lilian  sobbed 
like  a  child.  The  parlourmaid  entered  with  the 
tea  and  the  nice  bread-and-butter,  and  saw 
the  child  munching  the  necktie,  and  was  shaken 
in  the  steely  citadel  of  her  virtue. 

"You'll  feel  better  when  you've  drunk 
this'm,"  said  the  parlourmaid  lumpily,  pouring 
out  some  tea.  "Hadn't  you  better  sit  down'm? 
...  It  won't  do  for  you  to  tire  yourself." 

God!  The  highly-trained  girl  so  far  forgot 
herself  as  to  spill  a  tear  into  the  milk-jug! 


II 

I 

MISS  GRIG 

LILIAN,  having  fulfilled  the  prophesy  of 
the  parlourrilaid  and  felt  better  after 
drinking  the  tea,  had  just  released  her  shoul- 
ders from  her  dust  cloak  and  dropped  her  for- 
lorn little  hat  on  the  carpet,  when  she  heard  a 
firm,  light  tap. 

"May  I  come  in?" 

Miss  Grig  entered  and  shut  the  door  care- 
fully. 

Lilian  tried  to  get  up  from  the  low  easy- 
chair. 

"Please I  Please!  Don't  move.  You  must 
be  exhausted." 

Miss  Grig  advanced  and  shook  hands.  Lil- 
ian raised  her  eyes  and  lowered  them.  Miss 
Grig  was  shockingly,  incredibly  aged.  In 
eight  months  she  had  become  an  old  woman 
and  a  tragic  woman.  (The  lawyer  had  omit- 
ted to  furnish  Lilian  with  this  information.) 

270 


Miss  Grig  271 


But  she  was  not  less  plump.  Indeed,  owing 
to  the  triumph  of  her  instinctive  negligence  in 
attire  over  an  artificial  coquetry  no  longer 
stimulated  by  the  presence  of  a  worshipped 
man,  she  seemed  stouter  and  looser  than  ever. 
She  was  dressed  for  the  street. 

Lilian,  extremely  perturbed,  looked  at  the 
dilapidation  and  thought:  "I  have  done  this." 
She  also  thought:  "This  is  the  woman  that 
turned  me  out  of  my  situation  because  she 
fancied  Felix  was  after  me — not  me  after  Fe- 
lix. What  a  cruel  shame  it  was!"  And  thus, 
though  she  felt  guilty,  she  felt  far  more  re- 
sentful than  guilty.  What  annoyed  her  was 
that  she  felt  so  young  and  callow  in  face  of  the 
old  woman,  and  that  she  was  renewing  the 
humiliating  sensations  of  their  previous  inter- 
view. She  felt  like  the  former  typist,  and  the 
wedding-ring  on  her  finger  had  somehow  no 
force  to  charm  awaj^  this  feeling  so  uncom- 
fortable and  illogical.  She  was  not  aware  that 
her  own  appearance,  pathetic  in  its  unshapely 
mingling  of  the  girl  and  the  matron,  in  turn 
was  impressively  shocking  to  Miss  Grig. 

"I  thought  I  ought  just  to  say  good-bye  to 


272  Lilian 

you  before  leaving,"  said  Miss  Grig  in  a  calm, 
polite  but  quavering  voice. 

"Ai-e  you  leaving?"  Lilian  exclaimed  fool- 
ishly.    "I  expected  you  to " 

"FeKx  left  everything  to  you " 

**I  had  nothing  at  all  to  do  with  the  will — 
I " 

"Oh,  no!  I  didn't  suppose  for  a  moment  you 
had.  Felix  would  never  consult  anybody  in 
such  matters.  I'm  not  complaining.  Felix 
was  quite  right.  He  made  you  his  wife  and 
he  left  you  everything.  It  might  have  been 
different  if  I'd  no  money  of  my  own.  But, 
thank  God  I'm  independent!  And  I  prefer 
to  have  my  own  home."  The  tone  was  unex- 
ceptionable, and  yet  Miss  Grig  managed  to 
charge  with  the  most  offensive  significance  the 
two  phrases:  "He  made  you  his  wife"  and 
"'Thank  God  I'm  independent."  It  was  as 
if  she  had  said:  "He  raised  you  up  from  be- 
ing his  kept  woman  to  be  his  wife — he  made 
you  honest — and  he  needn't  have  done!"  and, 
"If  I'd  been  at  the  mercy  of  a  chit  like 
you !" 

But  Lilian,  while  she  fully  noticed  it,  was 


Miss  Grig-  273 


insensible  to  the  offence.  She  was  thinking  as 
she  sat  huddled  beneath  Miss  Grig  erect : 

"Who  won?  You  didn't.  I  did.  You 
thought  you'd  finished  me.    But  you  hadn't." 

And  added  to  this  was  the  scarcely  con- 
scious exultation  of  youth  and  energy  con- 
fronting the  end  of  a  career.  The  man  for 
whom  they  had  fought  was  dead  and  long  de- 
cayed, but  they  were  still  fighting.  It  was 
terrible.  Lilian's  feehngs  were  terrible;  she 
realized  that  they  were  terrible ;  but  they  were 
her  feelings.  Worse,  crueller  than  all,  she  re- 
flected : 

"One  day  you  will  come  and  swallow  your 
pride  and  beg  me  humbly  for  a  sight  of  his 
child  I" 

Miss  Grig  continued  with  wonderful  dig- 
nity: 

"As  I  say,  I  thought  it  proper  to  stay  till 
you  actually  arrived,  and  formally  hand  over. 
Though  really  there's  nothing  to  be  done.  I 
hope  you'll  find  everything  to  your  satisfac- 
tion. The  servants  will  stay,  at  any  rate  as 
long  as  you  need  them.  Of  course  I  told  them 
beforehand  how  things  are  with  you.     The 


w 


274  Lilian 

household  accounts  I've  given  to  Mr.  Farjiac 
today."  (Mr.  Farjiac  was  the  solicitor.) 
"And" — she  opened  her  Dorothy  bag — here 
are  the  keys.  Masters — that's  the  parlourmaid 
— will  tell  you  which  is  which." 

Instead  of  handing  the  keys  to  Lilian,  she 
dropped  them  by  the  necktie  on  the  dressing- 
table,  where  they  made  a  disturbing  noise  in 
collision  with  the  glass-top, — as  if  they  had 
cracked  the  glass  (but  they  had  not). 

"I  think  that's  everything." 

"But  about  the  business?"  Lilian  asked 
weakly. 

"Oh,  yes,  of  course,  I  was  forgetting.  Mr. 
Farjiac  knows  all  about  it.  I've  left  Gertie 
Jackson  in  charge.  She's  very  capable  and 
devoted.  You  needn't  go  near  the  place  un- 
less you  care  to.  I've  told  her  she  should  come 
and  see  you  to-morrow." 

"But  are  you  giving  it  up  entirely  ?"  Lilian, 
who  had  heard  not  a  word  from  the  lawyer 
as  to  this  abandonment,   was  ready  to  cry. 

"How  can  I  give  up  what  doesn't  belong 
to  me?"  asked  Miss  Grig,  with  a  revolting 
sweetness  like  the  taste  of  horseflesh.     "The 


Miss  Grig  275 


business  is  yours,  and  it  was  never  mine.  I 
merely  managed  it." 

"Won't  you  take  it?"  Lilian  burst  out,  losing 
self-control  in  the  reaction  of  her  natural 
benevolence  against  the  awful  bitterness  of  the 
scene.  "Take  it  all  for  yourself.  I  would  so 
like  you  to  have  it.    I  know  you  love  it." 

Miss  Grig's  tone  in  reply  recalled  the  young 
widow  to  the  dreadful  proprieties  of  the  inter- 
view. 

"No,  thank  you,"  said  she  coldly,  with  the 
miraculous  duplicity  of  wounded  arrogance, 
"I'm  only  too  glad  to  be  rid  of  the  responsi- 
bility and  the  hard  work — at  my  age.  I  only 
did  it  all  to  please  Felix.  So  that  now  he's 
dead  ...  By  the  way  I  think  I  ought  to  let 
you  know  that  my  poor  brother's  grave  is  sadly 
neglected.  And  the  headstone  has  a  terribly 
foreign  look." 

Miss  Grig's  "By  the  way"  information  ab- 
solutely effaced  the  effect  on  Lilian  of  the  mag- 
nificent lie  which  preceded  it.  She  was  stag- 
gered and  she  was  insulted  and  outraged.  Had 
Miss  Grig  dared,  without  warning  her,  to  go 


276  Lilian 

down  to  the  Riviera  and  examine  Felix's 
grave? 

"You've  been  there?"  she  demanded  bro- 
kenly.   Miss  Grig  nodded. 

"I  ventured,"  she  said  with  haughty  defer- 
ence, "to  give  orders  about  it.  I  hope  you 
don't  disapprove." 

"When  did  you  go?" 

"Ohl  Not  long  since,"  said  Miss  Grig  casu- 
ally, carelessly,  victoriously.  "I  must  leave 
you  now.  I  think  I've  had  all  my  own  things 
removed,  and  I  hope  nothing  that  belongs  to 
you.  If  there's  anything  wrong,  or  anything 
I  can  do,  will  you  write  to  Mr.  Farjiac?" 

She  smiled  gravely,  steadily,  and  shook 
hands;  and  carried  off  her  grief,  her  frustra- 
tion, her  everlasting  tragedy,  safe  and  intact 
and  with  pomp  away  from  the  poor,  pretty 
little  chit  whom  destiny  had  chosen  to  be  the 
instrument  of  devastation. 

Lilian  sat  dulled.  The  keys  of  the  house  lay 
beside  the  damp  and  creased  club  necktie.  She 
heard  a  taxi  arrive  and  the  door  bang  and  the 
taxi  depart.  A  hot,  dry,  mournful  wind  of  the 
summer  night  blew  the  curtains  with  a  swish 


Miss  Grig  277 


suddenly  inwards  and  made  Lilian  shiver.  Ah ! 
What  would  she  not  have  given  for  an  endless, 
tearful,  sobbing  talk  with  the  only  other  crea- 
ture on  earth  who  had  worshipped  Felix  ?  How 
she  would  have  confessed,  abased  herself,  ac- 
cused herself,  excused  herself,  abandoned  her- 
self, uncovered  her  inmost  soul,  at  the  signal 
of  one  soft  word  from  Isabel  Grig!  Hellish 
pride!  Hellish  implacable  rancour!  Glutton 
of  misery!  The  woman  had  not  even  offered 
a  syllable  of  goodwill  for  the  welfare  of  the 
coming  baby !  Nevertheless,  Lilian's  heart  was 
breaking  for  Isabel  Grig.  Who  could  blame 
Isabel?  Or  who  Lilian?  The  situation  inevi- 
tably arising  from  their  characters  and  from 
the  character  of  the  dead  man  had  overpow- 
ered both  of  them.  Lilian  thought  of  the  neg- 
lected grave,  and  of  the  courtesan's  prayer, 
"Eternal  peace!  No  emotions!  Stretched 
straight  out.  Quiet  for  ever  and  ever!  Eter- 
nal peace!"  In  the  indulgence  of  grief  and 
depression  she  wanted  to  keep  the  thought. 
But  she  could  not.  She  was  too  yomig  and  too 
strong,  and  the  edges  of  the  dangerous  future 
were  iridescent. 


Ill 

THE  LIEUTENANT 

LILIAN  slept  heavily  and  without  mov- 
ing, and  when  the  parlourmaid  aroused 
her  with  more  tea  at  nine  o'clock  according  to 
order,  she  drank  half  the  first  cup  before  the 
process  of  waking  was  complete.  Her  mind 
had  been  running  jerkily: 

"So  she  actually  went  all  that  way  to  see 
his  grave.  And  I  haven't  seen  the  stone  my- 
self. Of  course  Fehx  wrote  to  her  when  he 
was  getting  better  and  told  her  he  was  going 
to  marry  me.  That's  how  she  must  have  first 
known  I  was  out  there  with  him.  He  wrote 
on  purpose  to  tell  her.  And  she  went  all  that 
way  to  see  my  darling's  grave  and  never  said 
a  word  to  me !  It's  her  feeling  for  Felix  makes 
her  so  cruel,  poor  thing.  Oh!  But  she's  so 
hard,  hard.  Well,  I  could  never  be  hard  like 
that — I  don't  care  what  happened.  And  it 
won't  make  her  any  happier." 

278 


The  Lieutenant  279 


The  parlourmaid  returned  with  a  parcel. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  know  what  that  is,"  said  Lihan. 
"Just  cut  the  string  and  put  it  down  here,  will 
you?" 

"Miss  Jackson  is  waiting  to  see  you'm.  Will 
you  see  her  or  shall  I  ask  her  to  call  to-night?" 

"Miss  Jackson!"  Lihan  exclaimed,  agitated 
by  the  swiftness  of  the  sequence  of  events. 
"Has  she  been  waiting  long?" 

"No'm.     Only  about  twenty  minutes." 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  before?" 

"I  thought  you  ought  to  have  your  tea 
quiet 'm." 

"How  nice  of  you!"  said  Lilian,  with  a 
weak,  acquiescent  smile.  "But  do  ask  her  to 
come  in  here  now.  She  won't  mind  me  being 
in  bed,  will  she?" 

"I  should  hope  not'm,"  said  the  parlourmaid, 
pawing  the  ground. 

Lilian  pushed  her  lustreless  hair  out  of  her 
eyes.  The  sun  was  shining  on  part  of  the 
tumbled  bed.  Then  Gertie  Jackson  came  in. 
Absolutely  unchanged !  The  same  neat,  pro- 
vincial, Islingtonian  toilette.  The  same  seri- 
ous, cheerful,  ingenuous  gaze.     The  same  un- 


28o  Lilia 


n 


marred  complexion.  The  same  upright  pose 
and  throwing  back  of  the  shoulders  in  uncon- 
scious rectitude  and  calm  intention  to  front 
courageously  the  difficulties  of  the  day.  The 
same  mingling  of  self-respect  and  deference. 
She  bent  over  the  bed ;  Lilian  held  up  her  face 
like  a  child  with  mute  invitation,  and  Gertie 
kissed  her.  What  a  fresh,  honest,  innocent, 
ignorant  kiss  on  Lihan's  hot,  wasted,  experi- 
enced cheek! 

"You  poor  thing!"  Gertrude  murmured  de- 
votedly. 

"I'm  seven  months  gone  nearly,"  Lilian  mur- 
mured, as  if  in  despair. 

"Well,  it'll  soon  be  over  then!"  said  Gertie 
buoyantly,  in  a  matter-of-fact  tone. 

"Yes,  but  shall  I  ever  again  be  like  I  was?" 
Lilian  demanded  gloomily. 

"Of  course  you  will,  dear.  And  prettier. 
They  almost  always  are,  you  know.  I've  often 
noticed  it." 

"You  dear!"  cried  Lilian,  "and  do  you  mean 
to  say  you've  got  up  earlier  and  come  all  the 
way  down  from  Islington  here  to  see  me  be- 


The  Lieutenant  281 


fore  going  to  the  office?  And  me  keeping  you 
waiting!" 

"Why!  But  of  course  I  came.  I'm  respon- 
sible to  you,  now  poor  Miss  Grig's  gone.  I 
told  her  I  would  be.  But  I  can't  tell  you  how 
glad  I  shall  be  if  I  suit  you  and  you  find  you 
can  keep  me  on.     It's  such  a  good  situation." 

Lilian  hfted  her  face  again  and  kissed  her, 
— but  not  the  kiss  of  gratitude  (though  there 
was  gratitude  in  it) ,  the  kiss  of  recompense,  of 
reward.  It  was  Lilian  who,  in  allowing  her- 
self to  be  faithfully  served,  was  conferring  the 
favour.  Gertrude  was  the  eternal  lieutenant, 
without  ambition,  without  dreams,  asking  only 
to  serve  with  loyalty  in  security.  In  that  mo- 
ment Lilian  understood  as  never  before  the 
function  of  these  priceless  Gertrudes  whose 
first  instinct  when  they  lost  one  master  was  to 
attach  themselves  to  another. 

"Look  here!"  said  Lilian.  "D'you  know 
what  I  want?  I  want  you  to  come  and  live 
here  till  it's  over." 

"Of  course  I  will,"  Gertrude  agreed,  ea- 
gerly ready  to  abandon  her  domestic  habits  and 
interior  for  as  long  as  she  was  required  to  do 


282  Lilian 

so  and  to  resume  them  whenever  it  might  suit 
Lilian's  convenience.  And  all  because  Lilian 
had  been  beautiful  and  successful  and  would 
be  beautiful  and  successful  once  more! 

"You  must  come  to-night,  will  you?"  Lilian 
insisted,  transformed  in  a  moment  into  the 
spoilt  and  exacting  queen. 

Gertrude  nodded,  brightly  beaming. 

"I  do  so  want  to  talk  to  you,"  Lilian  went  on. 
"I've  had  nobody  to  talk  to  for — I  mean  like 
you.  D'you  know,  Felix  would  have  been 
alive  now  if  it  hadn't  been  for  me."  She  burst 
into  tears,  and  then,  recovering,  began  an  in- 
terminable detailed  recital  of  events  on  the 
Riviera,  coupled  with  a  laudation  of  Felix. 
She  revelled  in  it,  and  was  shameless,  well 
aware  that  Gertrude  would  defend  her  against 
herself.    The  relief  which  she  felt  was  intense. 

At  the  end  of  half  an  hour,  when  the  torrent 
had  slackened,  Gertrude  said: 

"I  really  think  I'd  better  be  going  now. 
What  time  would  you  like  me  to  come  to- 
night? I'm  quite  free  because  I'm  not  taking 
night  duty  this  week.  It's  Milly's  week." 
And  as  she  was  leaving  she  turned  back  rather 


The  Lieutenant  283 

nervously  to  the  bed.  "D'you  mind  me  sug- 
gesting one  thing?  I  wouldn't  have  j'^ou  over- 
tire  yourself;  but  if  you  could  just  show  your- 
self at  the  office,  I  feel  it  would  be  such  a  good 
thing  for  all  of  us.  The  girls  would  under- 
stand then  who  the  new  employer  is.  Some 
of  them  are  very  stupid,  you  know.  If  you 
could  just  show  yourself — a  quarter  of  an 
hour.    It's  for  your  own  sake,  dear." 

"As  I  am?     I  mean — you  know " 

"Why  not?" 

"But  would  they " 

"Of  course  not,"  blandly  and  firmly  decided 
Gertrude,  who  had  been  brought  up  in  Isling- 
ton, where  the  enterprise  of  procreation  pro- 
ceeds on  a  vast  scale  and  in  a  straightforward 
spirit.  Strange  that  in  Gertrude's  virginal 
mentality  such  realism  could  coexist  with  such 
innocent  ingenuousness!    But  it  was  so. 

When  Gertrude  had  left,  Lilian  opened  the 
parcel.  It  was  from  Dr.  Samson  and  con- 
tained two  books  recommended  and  promised 
by  him  about  preparing  for  motherhood,  and 
motherhood,  and  cognate  matters.  The  mere 
titles  of  the  chapters  entranced  her. 


IV 

THE  NEW  EMPLOYER 

APPRECIABLY  less  than  a  year  had 
passed  since  she  went  down  those  office 
stairs,  thrust  out  by  the  implacable  jealousy  of 
Miss  Grig,  and  yet  in  that  short  time  the  stairs 
had  shrunk  and  become  most  painfully  dingy. 
The  sight  of  them  saddened  her ;  she  wondered 
how  it  was  that  their  squalor  had  not  affected 
her  before.  She  felt  acutely  sorry  for  the  girl 
named  Lilian  Share  who  in  the  previous  au- 
tumn used  easily  to  run  up  them  from  bottom 
to  top,  urged  by  the  consciousness  of  being  late. 
Now,  she  had  to  take  the  second  flight  very 
slowly.  The  door  opened  as  she  reached  it, 
and  Gertie  Jackson  emerged  to  usher  her  in. 
A  dozen  pairs  of  ears  had  been  listening  for 
her  arrival.  The  doors  of  both  the  large  and 
the  small  rooms  were  ajar,  and  she  had 
ghmpses  of  watching  faces  as  she  went  with 
Gertrude  into  the  principal's  room.     She  was 

284 


The  New  Employer  285 

intensely  nervous  and  self-conscious.  Gertrude 
explained  that  Miss  Grig  had  installed  her 
in  the  principal's  room  months  ago,  and  Lilian 
said  that  that  was  quite  right,  and  Gertrude 
said  that  she  had  hoped  Lilian  would  approve. 

Tea  was  laid  on  one  of  the  desks,  a  dainty 
tea,  such  a  tea  as  Lilian  had  never  seen  in  the 
office,  with  more  pastry  than  even  two  girls 
could  eat  who  had  had  no  lunch  and  expected 
no  dinner;  an  extravagant  display.  Then  a 
flapper  entered  with  the  tea-pot  and  the  hot- 
water  jug,  and  Lilian  smiled  at  her,  and  the 
flapper  blushed  and  smiled  and  tossed  her 
winged  pig-tail.  The  flapper  had  a  shabby 
air.  Lilian  could  swallow  only  one  cake  be- 
cause Gertrude  was  sitting  where  Felix  had 
sat  when  he  first  told  her  what  she  might  do 
and  ought  to  do  with  herself. 

"I  am  so  glad  you've  come!"  said  Gertrude, 
in  a  sort  of  rapture.  "Yes,"  Lilian  agreed  with 
dignity.    "I  was  bound  to  come,  of  course." 

She  felt  wise  and  mature  and  tremendously 
aware  of  her  responsibilities ;  and  she  intended 
to  remain  so.  Nobody  should  be  able  to  say 
of  her  that  she  had  lost  her  head  or  that  she  was 


286  Lilian 

silly  or  weak  or  in  any  way  unequal  to  her  situ- 
ation. Above  all,  Miss  Grig  should  be  forced 
to  continue  to  respect  her. 

"I  suppose  I'd  better  just  go  and  see  them 
all  now,"  she  suggested,  after  more  tea. 

''They'd  be  dehghted  if  you  would,"  said 
Gertrude,  as  if  the  thing  had  not  already  been 
arranged. 

Naturally  Lilian  honoured  the  small  room 
first.  The  three  inhabitants  of  the  small  room 
— two  of  them  were  unknown  to  her — sprang 
up,  flattered,  ruffled,  flustered,  excited,  at  her 
entrance.  There  she  stood,  the  marvellous,  the 
semi-legendary  Lilian,  who  had  captured  the 
aristocratic  master,  run  off  with  him  to  the  con- 
tinent, married  him,  buried  him,  inherited  all 
his  possessions,  and  was  soon  going  to  have  a 
baby.  Her  famous  beauty  was  under  eclipse, 
her  famous  figure  had  grown  monstrous  be- 
yond any  possible  concealment;  but  she  was 
still  marvellous.  She  was  the  most  romantic 
figure  that  those  girls  had  ever  seen;  she  was 
all  picture-paper  serials  and  cinema  films  rolled 
together  and  come  to  life  and  reality.  Her 
prestige  was  terrific.     She  felt  it  and  knew  it 


The  New  Employer  287 


and  acted  on  it.  How  pathetically  common 
the  girls  were,  how  slave-like!  How  cheap 
their  frocks!  How  very  small  the  room  (but 
evidently  it  had  been  tidied  for  her  visit) ! 
She  recognized  one  of  the  old  Underwoods  by 
a  dent  in  its  frame,  and  remembered  the  stain 
on  one  of  the  green  lampshades,  and  the  pe- 
culiarities of  the  woodwork  of  the  absurdly 
small  mirror.  She  was  touched;  she  might 
have  wept  a  httle,  but  her  great  pride — in  her 
achievement,  in  her  position,  in  her  condition, 
even  in  her  tragic  sorrow — upheld  her  safely. 
Tenderly  invited  to  sit  down,  she  sat  down, 
and  she  put  expert  questions,  to  the  wonder- 
ment of  practicing  typists,  thus  proving  that 
she  was  not  proud.  And  then  with  gracious 
adieux  she  proceeded  to  the  large  room  where, 
though  her  stay  was  (properly)  more  brief, 
she  created  still  more  sensation.  In  the  large 
room  she  surprised  one  or  two  surreptitious  ex- 
changes of  glance  betraying  a  too  critical 
awareness  on  the  part  of  some  that  she  had 
sinned  against  the  code  and  perhaps  only  saved 
herself  by  the  skin  of  her  teeth.  These  unkind 
exhibitions  did  not  trouble  her  in  the  least. 


288  Lilian 

The  demeanour  of  the  more  serious  and  best- 
paid  girls  showed  absolutely  no  arriere  pensee, 
and  better  than  anybody  else  they  know  what 
was  what  in  the  real  world.  Gertrude  Jack- 
son, the  honest  soul  of  purity,  already  adored 
her  employer. 

As  these  two  were  returning  to  the  princi- 
pal's room  the  entrance-door  opened  and  Milli- 
cent  Merrislate  burst  breathlessly  in. 

"How  splendid!"  exclaimed  Gertrude. 

She  had  sent  a  special  message  to  Milly,  and 
Milly  for  a  sight  of  her  new  mistress  had  got 
up  and  come  to  the  office  two  hours  earher  than 
her  official  time.  Lilian  was  amazed  and  very 
pleased.  She  remembered  that  she  had  once 
spent  at  any  rate  one  night  of  toil  in  perfect 
friendliness  with  the  queer,  flat,  cattish  Milli- 
cent;  and  now  she  insisted  on  Milly  helping 
them  to  eat  cakes  in  the  sacred  room.  The 
scene  was  idyllic.  A  little  later  LiHan,  having 
arranged  the  details  of  Gertrude's  temporary 
removal  to  Montpelier  Square,  announced  that 
she  must  go,  on  account  of  some  important 
shopping.  Gertrude,  sternly  watchful  against 
undue  fatigue  for  Lilian,  raised  her  eyebrows 


The  New  Employer  289 

at  the  mention  of  shopping,  but  LiHan  reas- 
sured her.  A  taxi  was  fetched  by  the  flapper- 
of-all-work,  and,  noticing  then  for  the  first 
time  that  the  road  repairs  in  the  neighbourhood 
were  all  finished,  and  eveiy  trace  of  them  van- 
ished, Lilian  gave  the  driver  an  address  in 
Piccadilly.  Several  girls  were  watching  her 
departure  from  the  windows;  her  upward 
glance  caught  them  in  the  act,  and  the  heads 
disappeared  sharply  within. 

"They  are  all  working  for  meT  she  thought 
with  complacency,  and  could  scarcely  beheve 
the  wonderful  thing. 


LAYETTE 

THE  pride  of  her  reception  in  Clifford 
Street  wafted  her  easily  up  the  some- 
what austere  stairs  of  the  first  floor  establish- 
ment in  Piccadilly.  She  had  long  been  familiar 
with  the  face  of  the  commissionaire,  and  the 
brass  signs  of  this  mysterious  shop,  but  never 
till  the  leading  word  attracted  her  eyes  as  she 
was  driving  from  Montpelier  Square  to  Clif- 
ford Street  had  it  occurred  to  her  what  the 
word  signified.  The  deceiving  staircase  led 
to  splendid  rooms,  indicating  that  the  renown 
of  the  establishment  could  not  be  spurious.  A 
bright  and  rosy  young  woman  came  smilingly 
forward  and  gave  Lilian  a  chair.  One  other 
customer,  a  stout  lady  with  her  back  to  the 
world,  was  being  served  in  a  distant  corner. 
A  marvellous  calm  reigned,  and  the  noise  of 
Piccadilly  seemed  to  beat  vainly  against  the 
high,  curtained  windows. 

290 


Layette  291 

"Layettes?"  Lilian  began  questioningly, 
with  a  strange  exultation.  The  aspect  of  the 
interior  had  revived  her  taste  for  luxury  while 
giving  it  a  new  direction. 

"Yes,  madam." 

The  esoteric  conversation  was  engaged. 
Lilian  sat  entranced  by  the  fineness  and  the 
diminutiveness  and  the  disconcerting  elegance 
of  the  display  ranged  abroad  for  her  on  the 
glass  counter.  She  was  glad  that  through  cul- 
pable sloth  she  had  done  absolutely  nothing  as 
yet  with  her  own  needle.  It  was  the  books  from 
Dr.  Samson  that  had  aroused  her  to  the  need 
for  action  of  some  sort,  for  she  had  had  no 
wise  woman  to  murmur  in  her  eager  ear  the 
traditions  and  the  Spanish  etiquette  of  cen- 
turies of  civilized  maternity. 

"I  shall  bring  Gertie  to  see  these  tomor- 
row," she  thought.  "It  will  please  her  fright- 
fully to  come,  and  she'll  stop  me  from  being 
too  extravagant.  Only  I  must  arrange  it  so 
that  her  work  won't  be  interfered  with.  Per- 
haps at  lunch  time.  Never  do  to  upset  disci- 
pline right  at  the  start!" 

And  she  asked  to  see  still  more  stock.    The 


292  Lilian 

articles  stimulated  her  memory  and  her  imagi- 
nation into  a  kind  of  tranquil  and  yet  raptu- 
rous contemplation  of  the  events,  voluptuous, 
tender  and  tragic,  which  had  set  her  where  she 
was.  The  thrill  of  conception,  the  long  pa- 
tience of  gestation,  the  coming  terror  of  la- 
bour mingled  all  together  in  her  now  mystical 
mind.  Her  destiny  had  been  changed,  or  at 
least  it  was  gravely  diverted.  Instead  of  glit- 
tering in  public  as  the  lovely  darling  and  blos- 
som of  luxurious  civilization,  and  in  private 
rendering  a  man  to  the  highest  possible  degree 
happy, — instead  of  this  she  was  secretly  and 
obscurely  building  a  monument,  in  her  body 
and  also  in  her  heart,  to  Felix — Felix  whom 
already  she  had  raised  to  be  the  perfect  man, 
Felix  who  might  have  been  alive  then  if  she 
had  not  one  evening  behaved  like  a  child,  or 
if  his  sense  of  his  duty  towards  her  had  not 
been  so  imperious.  (Her  common-sense  had  at 
last  cured  her  of  regarding  herself  as  his  mur- 
deress.) Whether  she  had  loved  him  to  the 
height  of  which  she  was  capable  of  passionate 
love  was  doubtful.  But  she  had  profoundly 
admired  him ;  she  had  been  passionately  grate- 


Layette  293 

f ul  to  him  for  his  love  of  her ;  and,  come  what 
might  when  her  beauty  was  restored  to  its  em- 
pire, no  other  man  could  ever  stand  to  her  in 
the  relation  in  which  Felix  had  stood.  He  had 
set  his  imprint  upon  her  and  created  her  a 
woman.  And  so  she  was  creating  him  a  god. 
All  these  movements  of  her  brooding  mind 
originated  from  the  spectacle  of  the  articles  on 
the  counter.  They  did  not  prevent  her  from 
discussing  layettes  with  the  bright,  rosy,  shop- 
girl. That  innocent,  charming  and  unimagi- 
native young  creatui'e  fingered  the  treasures 
with  the  casualness  of  use.  For  her  layettes 
were  layettes,  existing  of  and  for  themselves; 
they  connoted  nothing. 


THE  END 


-t3XT5 


3  1158  01321   1494     I 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA    000  372  328    5 


i 


